Invasion of the Body Snatchers
by Dianne
Summary: Paramedics called to an unknown type rescue are left reeling when the deceased victim turns out to be one of their own. Subsequent deaths around L.A. lead to a mass homicide investigation as more victims are found in similar condition. No one is safe.
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: This story may contain situations sensitive readers may not enjoy. I have labeled some parts that may be disturbing and have written them in such a way that they can be skipped. Readers who choose to do so can still understand what is going on.

XXXX

"Man, get a load of this," Chet said, thrusting a newspaper under Roy and John's noses as they tried desperately to finish lunch before they got toned out.

"Why don't you just give us the gist of it, Chet?" asked Roy as John simply ignored his mustached shift mate, taking a huge bite of his tuna sandwich by wrapping his arms right around Chet's arms and the newspaper.

Chet withdrew his arms and the paper, afraid of getting bit. "Alright, alright but there's pictures too. I can't describe them. They say a thousand words and you all know I'm not much for talking."

"Just get to the point, Chet," growled John over a large swig of milk.

_"Carson, April first," _Chet began dramatically. "_Police say a woman walking her dog discovered a man's body near the brush area of South Freen Road. Large scars gouged into the man's back and the state of his clothing indicated some type of large animal attack but later reports indicate foul play. Preliminary autopsy reports have been released to inform the public of a possible danger. Last month in approximately the same location, another male victim was found with similar wounds. Both bodies have had organs removed. Police are urging the public not to panic but at the same time are asking that caution be used when traveling alone or at night. So far there are no known motives or connections between the victims._

_Residents along South Freen haven't reported any unusual activities but theories as to_ _motive have run the gamut from cult activity to psychotic mass murder."_

Roy pushed his plate away while John continued chewing happily.

"Does anything put you off your food?" Roy asked.

"Nope. I need fuel. At any moment we could get call …" John smiled through a huge bite and pushed away from the table as the klaxons sounded.

"It's April first, Chester B. I bet that's a gag article. Don't get your panties in a bunch," Roy chided, hopping in behind the wheel of the squad.

Chet would tell them later when they got back that he wasn't reading a tabloid but a real newspaper. The article was true.

XXXX

John squinted into the dying sun, which cast pinkish shadows across the red mud. A small naked figure at the bottom of the ravine sent chills up his spine. It wasn't only the stillness or the color of the body that confirmed to him that the person was dead, it was his very instinct, as if he could smell death.

The ropes were secured and Roy and John stepped over the ledge. Protocol dictated that they check for vitals. The body was fresh, no decomposition, but John was loath to touch it. He was the closest. He swung over, took a deep breath and held it, reaching out for the carotid artery. His suspicions were confirmed. There was no pulse and it had been at least an hour since the man had taken his last breath.

With heavy hearts Roy called up for a stokes taking another glance at the victim whose head was turned away from them.

"Don't disturb the area, guys. We just got a call from dispatch telling us to wait for a forensics team. Why don't you come back up for awhile?" Cap called down.

"Gladly," John shuddered. Roy slapped him on the back in a show of support and together they made their way up.

The forensics people were glad for the help from the fire department to get down to the body. They concluded their study in less than an hour and by the time they wrapped the poor victim for his trip up the ravine he lay in a more dignified position under a yellow tarp on his back. The winch was secured and John and Roy assisted in their ascent.

As the stokes with its grim load crested the top of the ravine a gust of wind lifted the yellow tarp.

Roy grabbed John's shoulders and spun him around so he wouldn't see. The victim was Bruce, their ride-along trainee from over a year ago. Roy knew John kept in touch with the young paramedic who was planning on getting married and moving out of L.A. due to his asthma.

"What are you doing, Pally? You nearly dislocated my shoulder."

"Uh, sorry, Junior," Roy said distractedly his hands firm on John's shoulders until the yellow tarp was back in place

"What's goin' on, Roy?"

Roy's brain raced fast. He didn't want to over react. Maybe it was only a person who looked like Bruce. There was no sense upsetting John if he was wrong.

"Do me a favor, okay, Johnny? Just stow the gear and give me a minute?"

John looked deeply into his friend's eyes figuring maybe Roy needed a minute to pull himself together after such a gruesome find. He had to trust his friend to tell him what was going on later.

Roy walked over the forensics unit. "Was there any ID near the victim?" he asked, trying to sound like he only had professional interest.

"No, we're going to have to wait for missing persons reports. The worst thing is, this is fairly fresh so there's no telling how long it's going to be before we find out who he is. It looks like he's a victim of our mass murderer though. His chest was cut open right through the ribs but this time there are no organs missing," the man who identified himself as Detective Rockstiller said.

"I think I might know him," Roy said nervously glancing about for signs of his partner.

Immediately becoming suspicious of the circumstances Rockstiller narrowed his eyes.

"And how is that?"

"I think my partner over there and I trained this man last year. I think he's a fireman/paramedic with the L.A. County Fire Department, that's how," Roy answered evenly.

Rockstiller nodded his head and a female coroner's attendant lifted the yellow tarp. Roy steeled himself and took another, longer look at the face he'd glimpsed earlier. There was no mistaking it. The man under the tarp was Bruce. Roy sat heavily on the bumper of the detective's personal car all color draining from his face. John picked that moment to come over.

"What's up, Roy? You feeling okay?" John moved closer to Roy as Rockstiller opened his mouth to speak.

"Let me please," Roy asked.

Rockstiller nodded solemnly.

"Johnny, listen. The man under the tarp … It's Bruce."

"What? No …"

Wanting a more positive ID than the word of a sick looking paramedic, Rockstiller rolled the tarp back as if he did this every day … and in fairness he did so he'd lost his sense of tact not having had to address a victim's family for a long time. That was the job of councillors and police. He worked for the victim. He'd forgotten the words 'loved ones' a long time ago.

"Look, I told you not to …" Roy trailed off in anger at Rockstiller as he watched his partner's eyes open wide, his legs carrying him automatically toward Bruce.

John's heart quickened. He brushed his hand over Bruce's face. It had been hard enough to feel for a carotid pulse when the man was a stranger on a cliff. Now the cold skin beneath his gentle caress warred with his memories of Bruce's smile and give-'em-hell attitude while on the job despite his asthma. John stared at the face. There was a pinched look of pain remaining. John drew his hand back and lost his battle to keep the bile down that lurched up his throat. He ran for the nearest ditch.

Roy didn't feel any better but he waved Cap away when he started toward John. Roy took a minute to glare at Rockstiller until Bruce was covered back up.

John knelt by the ditch still heaving in deep breaths. His hand swabbed his mouth and he looked up.

"Sorry. Just …"

Roy rubbed small circles on John's back. The two of them drew back from the ditch and sat heavily on the ground. Unable to stay back any longer, Cap made his way to them.

"John, you okay?"

"Y-yeah, Cap. Just give me a minute?"

"Cap, the victim. It's Bruce, our trainee from last year," Roy told him.

Cap took his helmet off and sat down next to them. He stood the station down until his men could all be told and could get their wits back.

For a half hour the men sat on the ground. The sun sank into the canyon and the forensics team hauled their sombre load away. The birds chirped goodnight and fell silent and the night bugs took up their song. Cap passed a canteen to John and left it to Roy to order him to drink to replace some of his fluids.

The men got stiffly to their feet. The people of L.A. County needed them. They returned to the station.

John took a long, hot shower and no one bothered him. Roy picked up the newspaper Chet showed them that morning, drinking in every detail. It was personal now. One of their own was dead.

XXXX

Roy sat with Joanne beside his shift mates and their relatives. Bruce's funeral was held in a rented auditorium because of the sheer size of the mourner's lines. Companies arrived from out of town and all over L.A. County. An honor guard escorted the casket carried by John Gage and some men from Bruce's home station. Bruce didn't die on the job but it didn't make it any less sad or him less of a hero and he was being honored in the most traditional way.

Roy had never attended a funeral for a murder victim. All funerals were different, some a celebration of a life long and well lived, some for people he and John tried to save but were unable, but this one … there were no words. There was no finality, no answers, just one word, senseless. The autopsy results were in the news, grim and scary and there was an air of fear mixed with loss among the gathered.

John bowed his head when a prayer was said and the casket was placed down. He turned and took his seat beside Joanne and Roy, glad to have them near.

Bruce's fiancé wore a simple black dress as she stepped onto the podium. Her voice was small even in the magnified speakers. She spoke of courage, dreams and love. She thanked people who showed Bruce acceptance and was the pillar of strength everyone there needed. She didn't dwell on the murderer whomever they were; they didn't deserve her words. Instead she closed her heartfelt speech with a prayer for peace and thanks for a love she had but for a short time. She didn't fall apart until she placed a pink rose on Bruce's coffin and her father and brother led her back to her seat and her mother.

That was what finally broke John. His face betrayed no emotion but his shoulders shook with unreleased grief and his jaw clenched as if to hold everything in. He blew out an audible breath of held air when the service concluded.

John made the obligatory rounds at the small luncheon following the funeral. He tipped his coffee cup to make it look like he drank some. He dropped his finger sandwiches into the nearest trashcan when he thought no one was looking. Small talk was made. _Yep, Bruce was a good man, yep, what a trooper to have come all that way with asthma, yep, he would have made a fine husband._

When it came to face Tracy, Bruce's fiancé, John tried really hard to form words he thought would be soothing. He didn't know Tracy as well as he'd known Bruce but she was a good woman, willing to give up her job here in L.A. as an architect's assistant and hope to find one in Colorado where the air would be better for Bruce's lungs.

"Are you still going to move?" was all Gage could think to say.

"I don't think so. Bruce and I had an offer in on a house in Colorado but I rescinded it when … Anyway my parents and brothers are out here. I think I'll stay." Tracy's face took on a look of anguish when Bruce's parents approached. "And I've become close with Bruce's parents as well."

Bruce's mom hugged John warmly but her words were like ice water pouring down his throat.

"I understand you were the first to reach our son?"

John had only met Bruce's parents once but it was obvious they cared deeply for their youngest son. John opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just … I wondered … When you found him, he was already …" Bruce's mother stammered.

"He was gone, I'm so sorry …" Gage mumbled as if it was his fault.

Bruce's father put his hand on John's shoulder reassuringly. "Sorry, son, it's just that since this happened, she's been wondering if you, or anyone on the scene thought that our son suffered terribly before …"

It was a normal question to ask. The what-ifs stacked up into one horrible pile of nightmarish scenarios. John gagged at his sudden memory of the grimace on his friend's face.

At that moment Roy appeared beside John. He slung his arm over John's shoulders and politely introduced himself and answered with honesty any questions he could. Unfortunately, Bruce's parents would have to wait for answers, for how long was anyone's guess. The reverend who spoke at the service offered words of consolation from the bible and Roy steered away a very grateful Gage.

XXXX

Roy passed John a beer as Joanne went next door to pick up the kids. The liquid sloshed down fighting for a place amongst the grief and general horror. John fiddled with his tie finally taking it off and let it fall on the patio stones. Roy went in the house and returned a few minutes later with some L.A.F.D sweats.

"Go put these on, Junior. You hate monkey suits. You'll be more comfortable and it's getting a little chilly out."

John smiled up at Roy. He always knew the right things to do and say.

"You doin' okay, Roy?"

"Yeah. I mean I will be. It's just so … I mean what do you even say about a thing like this? I mean with Drew it was …" He stopped talking and looked at his friend.

"It's okay, Roy. Not talking about them won't make it go away. And it's a disservice to them. I know what you mean. You don't have to say it. I don't have to like what happened to Drew but it's a hazard of the job. With Bruce it just, God I don't know."

Roy was glad John hadn't taken the mention of his other friend Drew poorly. Words were just stumbling blocks tonight for both of them so when John came back out onto the patio in more comfortable clothes, Roy just handed him another beer and they drank in silence.

XXXX

Chris Desoto was ten years old and Jennifer Desoto was six going on nineteen sometimes.

"Uncle Johnny, don't have too many beers. It's not good for you," she said with a level of sympathy in her voice that told him Joanne warned the kids not to bother their daddy or Uncle Johnny tonight. She put her little hands on her hips as her head bobbed in time to her counting the empty bottles on the table.

"Looks like mom and I will have to make up your bed too. You can't drive home."

John smiled for the first time in three days. It felt good. Jen sat on his lap for a minute and planted a kiss on his cheek. Chris carried a plate of sandwiches and chips outside and sat it between his dad and Johnny and snagged a handful of chips for himself.

"Mom says you both have to eat. I have to tell her how many sandwiches you have so don't make me go back in with nothing to report. It'll be easier on all of us if you just eat," he said wisely.

That got a chuckle from Roy and John and they took this moment of levity to try to eat a bit. John managed a whole sandwich but steered clear of the chips in fear that the grease would put him over the edge.

XXXX

John awoke to the sound of birds singing in the Desoto's backyard. He lay in the guest room a.k.a. Uncle Johnny's guest room. The window was open and the sun shone in brightly. Roy hobbled down the hall and stopped in the doorway.

"I have no memory of coming in here," yawned John, thanking God when he looked down to find he still had his sweats on, minus his socks and shoes.

"You and Jenny fell asleep outside and when I picked her up you just got up and followed along and automatically turned left at the right spot," smiled Roy.

John sat up groggily, the room spinning just enough to let him know he'd had one too many the night before. He wasn't sick thankfully. He sniffed the air experimentally; Coffee, toast, eggs, bacon. His stomach growled.

Roy poured coffee and both he and John thanked Joanne. She understood them so well. She was strong, enduring long shifts and worry that came with the territory of her husband's job. She'd opened her arms and home to his best friend and in doing so opened her heart to the possibility of more pain. She smiled for them when they couldn't and reminded them that life went on after the bad shifts and chaos.

John played a brief game of catch with Chris and helped Jenny with her grade one spelling words before trimming the hedges while Roy cut the grass and watered the flowers. He clapped Roy on the back and kissed Joanne on the cheek before leaving for home to get some household chores and laundry done for their shift tomorrow.

XXXX

The months flew by into late October. There were five more victims of what was now being dubbed the _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ by some sick members of the press. A pattern was emerging among the victims, all young, healthy, athletic types, one police officer, one fireman, and a few college athletes. There were three additional missing persons, two female, one male, all three young, pre-Olympic swimmers from the same team. All three failed to report home after a practice.

John stopped reading the newspapers but he couldn't help straining his ears to hear the men in the station talking about the grizzly murders.

The streets were emptier than usual as the squads went out on runs. The absence of children in the park was unnerving, the swings gliding on their own in the wind and the push-carousel grinding around and around by itself was a creepy reminder of the danger that lurked in L.A. It didn't matter that so far, none of the missing or confirmed dead were children, who could take that chance?

People seemed to scurry from shop to shop, buying what they needed and not browsing, hurrying home to lock their doors and windows. Lawns were longer than usual as if homeowners didn't want to be outside any longer than necessary. Mailmen glanced around furtively and dropped letters into boxes to hurry away, glancing around corners before going up or down steps.

_Neither sleet nor snow nor dark of night … or murders will stop them from their appointed rounds_ Gage thought darkly.

XXXX

Roy hated the long shifts. He phoned Joanne each night and instead of normal conversation he went through a checklist to make him feel better that he wasn't home protecting his family.

Each time they got called out to an unknown type rescue the ride was tense. The odds of finding another body weren't as low as he hoped according to HQ. Station 110 was called to a grizzly ravine body recovery as well as station 16 to a dumpster behind a closed down fast food restaurant. Both runs had been murder victims.

The shift came to an end with a little teasing of Chet who had moved back in with his mother claiming that since his father was gone he was the man of the family and his mom needed him.

"You keep telling yourself that Chester B.," teased Marco, who had spent a few nights fixing a leak in his parent's basement and just stayed because it was such a late drive home after all the work.

"I sleep better on shift knowing that Beth has Rocky at home," Stoker said solemnly.

"Yeah, a rotweiller is a definite crime deterrent," Cap said. "But then again I think our Chihuahua's gas would be enough to make anyone turn back around."

Out in the parking lot and out of earshot of the other men, Roy asked John if he wanted to spend a few days with his family. He worried. John was the only member of fifty-one with no family at all.

"Thanks for the offer, Roy but my landlady who lives alone next door to me says she only gets a full night's rest when I'm not on nightshift. She's a senior, I sorta look out for her."

Roy couldn't let it go at that. Something nagged at that back of his brain. John was young, alone and fit the description of favored targets perfectly.

"Junior, call when you get home. If you go anywhere, be aware and just … be careful okay?"

John was about to use his famous sense of humor until he saw how serious Roy was. The truth was, he was a bit apprehensive about living alone with a murderer on the loose but at the same time he wasn't going to stop living and let the person win.

XXXX

At roll call a few days later it seemed like every man took a mental count of each other. Tensions were at an all time high. Before Cap gave out assignments he read a memo from HQ, skipping to the meat of it.

"Station 110 brought in what the police believe is the first survivor of these attacks. He was missing a kidney and is in the ICU. So far he hasn't been questioned. Also, word came down about Bruce. Autopsy results from all the deceased victims show that Bruce was the only one with no missing body parts."

John coughed, the splash of bile burning his throat as he remembered the body laying down the cliff with two perfect incisions in his torso. He bent double, his shift mates leading him to a seat.

"That's what this is all about … body parts. Bruce had asthma. They couldn't use his lungs … so they dumped him whole. It's body part trafficking," Gage gasped.

Cap got on the phone with the chief coroner's office. Of course they'd already figured out that the body parts were missing but were still waffling over whether it was occult activity like what happened in the sixties in the valley or something else. Gage's observations about Bruce's scarred lungs clarified what they were dealing with. This would help the investigation immensely.

XXXX

Halloween was a week away and the city was planning a _take back the night_ rally with a parade and candies for the kids. Radio announcers put out an appeal on behalf of the L.A.P.D. for companies with vehicles to donate their time to drive around and patrol in a civilian capacity. Fire and emergency personnel were ordered to take overtime shifts for the duration of the event. The mayor was adamant that nothing would go wrong. Tourism was down and the crime was affecting the bottom line.

"The parade would be the perfect time for you guys to show off the old engine," Cap told Roy and John. Roy jumped at the chance. Joanne was bringing the kids to the parade anyway. This way, she and the kids could ride on the engine. He could keep an eye on them.

"And we get paid at the same time," John said enthusiastically. Every bit of his OT pay went into the bank for his house fund. He aimed to have a house on a small parcel of land by the time he was twenty-five and he had only year left to fulfill that.

Cap smiled as the young paramedic hopped down from where he was hanging hose and headed for the kitchen clearly doing mental math, carrying a number with his fingers in the air like he did when he helped Chris with his homework.

XXXX

Preparations and planning made the week go by quick. No additional victims were found and no missing persons reports were made. Optimism was still a hefty premium though. No one was in custody; there were no leads, only motive thanks to Johnny.

Halloween dawned crisp and bright, no rain in sight. Perfect for sitting atop an open engine. Roy and John polished the engine between runs and Joanne's car pulled into the lot of Station fifty-one at ten o'clock.

The guys marvelled at Chris and Jen's Halloween costumes. John even screamed loudly, pretending to be afraid of ghost-Jennifer. Chris was a fireman and Chet told him he filled out his little uniform better than Johnny did his.

Chris and Jen took their umpteenth tour of Big Red and never grew tired of it, then they rode piggyback on Chet and Marco until it was time to ride out. All of Station fifty-one was participating in the parade unless they were called out. Brice and Bellingham stepped in as shift coverage while John and Roy manned their old engine down to city hall.

The parade wound its way through the commercial district with much waving and fanfare. Mike Stoker was pleased when Big Red got a cheer. He'd stayed up most of the night polishing his prize engine and ended up having to do it all over again after an early morning trash fire. He smiled as all the men sat up just a little straighter as they passed by and watched the old engine ahead of him as John put his old fashioned fire helmet on Jenny's head. She pushed it up from her ghost-sheet covered eyes and wore it proudly while Roy gave his hat to Chris, who took off his paper costume one. Joanne threw candy to the children in the crowd, as did Chet and Marco from Big Red, along with stickers of Smokey the Bear.

"New stickers this year, Junior," Roy said, passing one to John to put in his pocket. John looked a bit sheepish but pocketed the picture anyway. Roy smiled and ruffled his hair while John smacked his hand away and grinned back.

"Have a bubblegum too. I know you want one."

John mock glared at Roy again but popped one in his mouth. He offered one to Joanne and looked smugly at Roy when she not only accepted but blew a gigantic bubble as well. The old engine was purring like a … well not a kitten but some big, growling cat type creature. All was well. Roy stopped the engine for a minute and scooted down from the seat.

"Your turn," he simply said.

John accepted the wheel. It wasn't often that he drove. He could have any time he wanted but there was a comfortable settlement between the two of them. John was the better navigator, Roy the better driver. They never talked about it. It was just one of those silent things they had, like the way they packed their drug box and instinctively knew what the other needed, like a well oiled machine.

For some reason John hadn't felt the wind blow through his hair in the passenger side. Roy smiled as a look of pure enjoyment filled his partner's features. It was half his engine. They worked long and hard on it and deserved for it to see the light of day in its glory. The rumble from the wheel rattled up John's arms. He felt the history, the engine, its very heart beating telling its tales of the triumphs, the loss, the exhaustion and exhilaration as it led the new generation in its wake.

The parade approached the fairgrounds, alive with rides and shows. In the centre of it all stood the two hundred year old wooden church, closed for over fifty years and now, its old whitewashed walls painted a garish purple and red. What a conversion, from a place of worship to a funhouse.

The open-air cab allowed sound to trickle to them in ever increasing volume; screams from the rides, music from the shows and excited children. The scent of hotdogs and cotton candy wafted to them, a temporary reprieve from the constant vigilance that gripped the city.

The men were lucky enough not to be called out. They stayed within close range of their engine and enjoyed the food and sights. It wasn't unusual for Big Red to have to tow the old engine back to the station but tonight she would make it on her own thank you very much.

The old engine did even better than making it back to the station. She stopped at the Desoto's house and let the children and Joanne out to the delight of any neighborhood children who weren't as yet at the fairgrounds. Joanne's car could be picked up another day. Joanne kissed Roy and quickly went into the house to retrieve his uniform he'd forgotten in his excitement over the parade. He and John would be on shift with the rest of the A shift this afternoon and night.

XXXX

John and Roy covered their beloved old girl up with a tarp, cinching the corners around it like a sweater on a cold day. John gave it a light tap with his hand as they made their way inside for some much needed coffee. Tonight would be a tough shift. The fairgrounds and amusements would be open until midnight and no doubt they would have their fair share of calls for sick amusement park riders and mostly minor injuries. After that the temporary boundary changes would cease and they'd be called for their own district's nightly emergencies.

As the day went on they attended to a variety of minor calls, a possible heart attack that turned out to be too much sausage on a bun with sour kraut and a possible concussion that turned out to be tilt-a-whirl-hurl. Each time John and Roy assured the people that they were glad they'd erred on the side of caution in calling them.

John looked longingly at the roller coaster as it grumbled by on its wooden tracks. It was no secret to Roy that his young partner loved the rides.

"I think the rides are stickin' around through the weekend. We're off Sunday so I was thinking of taking Jen and Chris but Jo and I don't do the rides and Jo's a little nervous of putting them on alone."

"I'd go on with 'em," John said casually but Roy didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, are you sure you wouldn't rather bring a date here?"

"Well, I mean, it would be a sacrifice and all but you know, that's what uncles are for, right?"

Roy tried not to laugh. "Right, and thanks John. I know the kids'll be really excited."

John took a little skip toward the squad. Roy knew John didn't have an easy childhood to say the least and he was glad when the young man let himself have some fun. Their job was a very responsible one and letting loose once in awhile was a must for sanity. Besides, with Uncle Johnny there he and Jo could maybe take a run through the tunnel of love.

Cap asked Mike to make his famous spaghetti and meatballs and Chet to make a salad and rolls. He wanted the men to eat healthy since he'd watched them scarf down foot long hot dogs and elephant ears for lunch. A station did not run on junk food alone.

John and Roy got dish duty while the engine was called out. The sun set as they were finished.

A huge apple juice harvest moon hung low on the horizon as the engine returned sweeping a fall breeze through the station before the bay doors closed after it. Before the men could even step down the klaxons sounded.

Roy and John exchanged nervous glances when the address was given. Fire at the fun-house at the fairgrounds. The tones were still sounding as they swung out of the drive, no need for specific addresses.

The place went up like toothpicks on a campfire. By the time the squad arrived the fire climbed the steeple like King Kong. The heat was so intense the bell clanged mournfully from the heat-fueled gusts of wind and spits of orange ash. No one doubted that the bell tolled for someone. The place was packed all around them.

As more engines arrived, Captain Stanley directed the men to evacuate the park. Police arrived and backed off some rowdies who were complaining that the way to the parking lot was blocked and they didn't' want to walk around from the other end of the fairgrounds. The officer's words were drowned out when the steeple decided to disperse the crowds of gawkers instead by keeling over and landing on the little vestibule to the left. Windows shattered from their frames sending glass shards dancing into the pastel lights of the rides. People screamed and ran in all directions.

Captain Stanley made his mind up. There were some people who were bleeding from the glass and wooden projectiles but they'd run away. It was a hard decision not to send Gage and Desoto and some of the other paramedics after them but if anyone was still alive in the fun-house they would be in much worse shape and immediate danger. The fools who had stood around could run themselves right the E.R. if they needed one.

Gage and Desoto donned the SCBA equipment in anticipation of their captain's orders. Cap looked loathe to send anyone inside the inferno. There were no floor plans and it turned out no one from city hall issued any permits or ordered any inspections despite this being a city-funded event. Bills for purple and red paint and sound equipment passed over the desks of countless politicians who'd signed on the dotted line without a second glance or care.

A young lady in a ticket-taker uniform bleeding from her right shoulder ran up to them.

"Please, my boyfriend is in the basement. He took this stupid job to help pay for college now he's …"

Gage put his hands on her shoulders gently, avoiding the injured area. "Okay, this is very important. Can you tell us exactly where he is and how we can get down there to him?"

The girl described a set of narrow wooden stairs leading down from the vestibule. Gage and Desoto took the time to question her and found out there were stairs leading upstairs as well. Cap wrote down everything she could remember about the layout of the fun-house.

Canned horror from the funhouse blared from speakers into the night air. Microphones placed inside to record teenage screams of fright from the zombies and monsters for their friends outside now emitted real screams of fear and panic.

"How many people do you think are in the funhouse at this time?" Cap asked.

"My boyfriend and about six other guys … you know, to scare folks with chainsaws and mummies and stuff and about six guests, all teenagers.

The church was going up fast. Smoke poured through the broken stained glass and curtains billowed outward as if trying to escape the flames that were slowly eating them. Cap shook his head and looked at the ground and then up at his men.

"Roy, John, I'm sending you in and two other teams of two. Do not split up. Heed your O2 warnings with time to spare."

John and Roy climbed the wooden porch and braved the heat. The vestibule was filled with smoke and crushed by the steeple on one side. The stairway leading up was gone lying on the ground like broken teeth. It took several minutes of clearing them away to find out that the first four steps leading to the basement were gone as well.

"I wish someone would shut that damned noise off," Roy shouted over the spooky ghost noises that were pumped in.

"They can't. It's linked to the microphones and Cap's gonna use a bullhorn to try to communicate with people inside."

Sure enough, Cap's voice overrode the canned vampire-like laugh. "Attention people in the fun-house. If you can hear me, there are speakers on every floor. If you can shout loudly enough, try to describe where you are and someone will come for you."

The eerie sounds were drowned out by at least four people shouting at once frantically for someone to save them.

"One at a time, please. We will get to you. Stay low to the floor, try to put something over your mouth and nose. Do not, I repeat, do not use your lighters to find your way out, you may start more fires. We will come for you."

Miraculously, people took turns shouting out their locations as best they could remember in the dark labyrinths that had been created when the church was converted. Gage snorted in disgust. Wooden pews were used to hold up chipboard walls making up the temporary mazes where they found their first victim crouched down and feeling around for a way out.

Roy kept the mantra of _left, left, right, straight_ and so on in his mind as he retraced his way back to the front doors to give his victim to the people waiting outside. He picked his way over hoses and nodded to two figures he could only assume was Chet and Marco dousing the hallways with water. Gage followed with another victim they found. He wanted to throttle the guy who was holding his Bic in front of him but he knew the kid was scared to death and confused despite the warnings.

With two victories John and Roy went back inside and by now a ladder was in place down to the basement. They turned and picked their way down, the smoke so thick they couldn't see the floor. The ceilings in the basement were so high the ladder didn't reach the floor and it was a leap into the unknown from the last rung. With aching knees the men stood up and tried to look around, flashlights not able to pierce the smoke and extreme darkness of the black painted walls.

With hands out before them turning every six or seven steps they picked their way through several small rooms of florescent spooky stuff, marking chalked white x's on the doors largely in vain to show the rooms were empty.

The sound of someone coughing brought them with quickened steps to a room to the right where they bumped into a coffin that sat on a sawhorse.

"Please, help me get him out!" gasped a brown haired boy of about seventeen dressed in a mummy suit who was so tightly bound he could barely move.

Roy gently moved the boy out of the way to see what was in the coffin. A teenage blond male in a vampire costume laid still, hands over his chest, a wooden stake pressed under his arms to look like it pierced his heart. Roy placed his hand inside the casket.

"Oh no …"

Roy pulled Gage close to him from where he was unwrapping the mummy's hands so he could better make his way out of there with them once his friend was freed.

"John, the beam on the coffin isn't the only thing keeping this kid in. It must have driven the spike through his chest for real as he held it in place with his arm. The blood's real."

John left the mummy and while Roy heaved debris from the closed lower body lid, John secured the wooden stake from moving and doing further damage. The ever-blossoming circle of blood on the white shirt made him think it might be too late but he wouldn't give up. He and Roy staunched the blood flow as best they could. They had no biophone so they went on previous experience with embedded projectiles and didn't try to remove it. The ceiling rumbled above them and a decision had to be made. There wasn't enough time to get them all out.

The words _don't split up_ echoed in Roy's ears.

"John, you have to get this kid out of here now."

John met Roy's blue eyes and knew it was true but he opened his mouth to argue. Roy should go with the mummy. He had a family to go home to. By the time backup arrived, it would likely be too late but the kid in the coffin couldn't be left alone if he was to have any chance at all.

"No … Roy I …"

"I'm senior here. That's an order."

John wouldn't risk killing them all. There was no time for hurt feelings. An order. _Go live…_

John shared his mask with the mummy as he made his way back to the ladder. Fallen beams made it impossible for the boy, whose legs were still bound from the knees up in mummy dressings to step over. John slung the kid over his shoulders while he dodged the beams, setting him back down when they reached clear floor.

Anxious masked faces gazed down at him as he reached up as far as he could to find the lowest rung. The mummy was either very athletic or pumped on adrenaline because when John hoisted him up and told him to grab hold and climb, climb he did.

Cap's voice on the HT ordered everyone out as Marco's frantic shouts echoed after John who took off back the way he came once he saw strong hands grab the mummy and pull him to safety.

Roy managed to get the door that covered the vampire from the waist down off. The boy's pale skin stood out even in contrast to the white makeup and red lips someone had painted on. John was suddenly at his side, removing the kid's fake vampire teeth and checking for respirations.

"I gave you an order!"

"You told me to get the mummy out. I did that."

Roy removed his mask and placed it over the vampire's face. Covering the youthful visage did nothing to stop his heart from skipping a beat when together, he and John lifted the boy from his coffin and wasn't that ironic. It was very likely that someone else would be putting him back in a real one very soon if the clammy skin and lack of cry of pain from being moved was any indication. The wooden stake stayed surprisingly straight, tied around the boy's body several times by rope and fastened around his shoulders.

There would be no practical fireman's carry; the wooden stake prevented that. Roy knew he wouldn't have been able to carry the boy alone like this. Going around corners was near impossible without bending the boy's body. As stupid as it sounded, it was a reward when their vampire cried out in agony as they maneuvered around a tight curve and had to bend him somewhat. He was still alive; now to keep him alive to get him up that ladder and out of here.

XXXX

Marco led the mummy and handed him off to Brice and Bellingham who had their hands full of other victims found in the fun-house. He stared pleadingly at Cap as Chet stood in the doorway spewing water slowly down the stairs. The rest of the building was lost. Cap's HT crackled to life.

"Cap, we've got a victim at the bottom of the stairs. We need a stokes."

The steeple took that moment to take its final breath as it fell further into the softened flaming porch as the railing gave way right next to Chet who sidestepped it deftly and continued his stream of water with a new found confidence at hearing his shift mate's calls. Stoker grabbed a stokes and handed it Marco without a word. Marco met Cap's eyes.

"Three minutes," Cap allowed solemnly, his heart dulling in his chest, sending a prayer up and hoping it was received even though this holy ground had been soured.

The stokes came down on a rope and Roy built a rope tent under the wooden stake so it wouldn't move.

"Keep his head above his feet at all times if you can!" he shouted up as the rope pulled taught and the vampire flew away from them.

John shoved the mask over Roy's face as soon as the victim was out of his hands. Roy breathed and coughed and couldn't argue taking the rung and swinging himself up. He turned once topside and grabbed John's hands pulling him the rest of the way.

Chet had to take a chance and shove the hose firmly into the one remaining solid iron railing in the vestibule. It held firm. He and Marco handed the stokes out to paramedics from 110 and turned back to help their friends.

The four men blew from the porch, landing three feet away in an ungraceful heap. One by one they got to their feet to get the snaking hose under control. Mike cut the pressure and the tower was ordered to surround and drown. There was nothing left.

John counted the bodies on the yellow blankets being assessed.

"Two have been taken to Rampart. The rest are still waiting for ambulances. We lost two teens at least at last count. It'll be awhile before we know if anyone else was inside," Cap said sadly.

Brice and Bellingham had turned the mummy over to other paramedics and were now holding down a convulsing vampire. Roy and John threw themselves forward onto the ground to help hold down thrashing legs and arms. Bellingham looked horrified as he held the wooden stake firmly into the boy's chest like a cheap B movie.

Two shots of Atropine later the convulsing stopped. Brice placed a stethoscope on the young man's chest.

"He's alive," was the announcement.

John was exhausted. Images of an old Frankenstein movie played in his head as he held firm to the boy's legs until they were sure the convulsing was over.

_He's alive!_

Bellingham was pale but his bloody hands were steady as he followed in perfectly timed steps with the gurney, holding steadfast to the wooden stake. The vampire fought for his life with everything he had as two IV's snaked up his arms and one from his ankle.

"Brice, wait a minute. You need to take Roy in too. Looks like he'll need stitches," Gage assessed quickly, looking at Roy's hand.

"It's a minor scratch from the coffin lid," Roy tried to shrug off.

"Time's a-wastin' Roy, get in, that's an order," Cap shouted after him causing John to blanch. He and Roy would have words later.

The ambulance sped off, sirens wailing. Gage coughed a bit as Cap helped him off with his turnout. Chet and Marco, soot faced and grim about the news of the teens they couldn't save sat down on the bumper of the squad beside him. The sirens bled out and with a great shower of sparks the speakers from the formerly fun house died out leaving an eerie silence that intensified the sounds of the crackling of the flames consuming their food.

"You hurt, John?" Cap asked, noting his youngest man's slumped posture.

Gage sat up straighter.

"No sir. Just …"

Cap studied Gage. He had a penchant for minimizing injuries. He looked okay, save for the soot around his nose and a slight wheeze, which they all had.

"The concession guy a half lane-way up stayed open and is giving free soda and drinks to emergency personnel and employees. Why don't you go get a nice coke with ice for your throat?" Cap suggested.

John needed to be alone to think. He had to talk to Roy. First he thought about how he would apologize for not following a direct order, then he raised his chin as he made his way to the concession. He wouldn't apologize for coming back for his best friend. He'd find some way to convey his respect but the thought of Jen and Chris being without their dad like he'd been for most of his life was something he couldn't accept.

John stopped to catch his breath after a coughing fit. That coke would sure taste good about now. The park was flooded in pastel lights of pink, green and blue from rides abandoned by their operators when the fun-house caught fire. Acrid smoke mixed with burnt carnival food turned John's stomach. This was a close one for all of them. The thought of the two dead teens sagged his shoulders and the spookiness of an empty fairground filled him with dread he couldn't explain. The fine hairs on his arms stood up. He put it up to being cold, having shucked his turnout gear and now wearing only his wet uniform clothes.

John turned his collar up a bit and started walking back toward the squad suddenly not wanting a coke. He chided himself for being so foolish and letting the murders get to him. It was midnight. If only the fun-house had waited a few hours, it would have been a simple surround and drown. Footsteps behind him caused him to turn on his heel but he never got to see who was behind him. He clutched at his thigh as he looked up at a blurry face. His mouth opened to speak.

"Gahhhhhh!" was all he managed to get out before his world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Roy sat on a gurney in treatment room three. Brice and Bellingham remained in treatment room one with their vampire. The gauze bandaged around Roy's palm was stained crimson. It wasn't a terribly bad wound. It could wait. He stared at the walls wishing he could see through them to know what was going on with the terribly wounded teenager. Another few minutes of delayed treatment and the boy would have been brought straight to the morgue.

Roy's feelings were mixed. He couldn't help but be proud of his partner but the look in Gage's eyes said it all back in the fun-house. It's not like firemen took turns putting themselves well, in the line of fire, but Roy had seen that look on John's face before; that look that said, your life is worth more than mine. In the end John followed the order, but he came back. The ends did justify the means … this time.

_God, Johnny, what am I going to do with you … after I shake your hand?_ And speaking of hands, Dr. Morton chose that time to come see about his.

"How are we doing, Roy?" Morton asked, glancing around for the other part of the _we._

"_I'm_ doin' okay, Doc. John should be bringing the squad in any time now," Roy replied, glancing at the door as if it should open any moment and Gage should come in bragging that finally it wasn't him in his _favorite _treatment room.

"Yeah, cap told me that you're fine," Morton said sarcastically picking up Roy's hand and unwinding the bandaging. Roy hissed in pain as Morton picked out two very sharp splinters that wiggled up through his skin.

Next came the freezing. Roy looked away from the needle that was injected into several places. A nurse came in with a tray and antiseptic was poured over the wound, the runoff in the basin swirling brilliant red.

"Call me when the freezing takes effect," Morton instructed the nurse. "I'm gonna go next door and see if they need any help." The nurse nodded in mild boredom.

Roy didn't recognize the nurse. She was pretty enough, green eyes, short brown hair and a slim figure. Roy smiled. She would surely distract Gage from the horrors today brought. Yep, any minute now, his partner should come through those doors, a little petulant from the position the fire had put them in, a little sore but stoic from all the smoke and exertion, and very much saddened by the loss of two … maybe three teens that he couldn't save. They would talk it out, slap each other on the back and they'd be okay again somehow. Then Johnny would smile and stand there watching Morton stitch his hand and making annoying suggestions that would make Roy smile and then he'd go hit on the nurse.

_Any minute now …_

"Ow-ouch!" exclaimed Roy looking down at the crook of his arm where the nurse stuck a needle to extract blood. He'd been daydreaming.

"Sorry, just drawing some blood," she said, smiling up at him in a pretty way. He was married, that wouldn't work. He grumbled that she could have warned a guy. She smiled again as Morton came back in, pocketed the blood and left the room.

"A blood sample. Really?" Roy asked irritably.

"I ordered no blood sample. You're up to date on all your shots. There was no reason …" Morton trailed off, sticking his head out the door to call the nurse back in.

The nurse's face turned to the floor as Morton chastised her for her mistake but as he was finished and turned around Roy caught sight of her face and the roll of her eyes. He knew the young doctor could be hard to deal with but this time, he'd been in his right to discipline the new nurse. It was a pretty big mistake and there was something ugly about the way she'd responded to the fair warning. He'd have to really warn John about her. When he got here.

_Any time now, Junior._

Roy kind of missed his wisecracking partner during the twelve stitches he took to close his palm. He'd never actually watched a needle pulling through his skin, Gage was always such an annoying … incorrigible … welcome distraction.

Dixie McCall came in with a cup of coffee for the weary fireman.

"Rough night?" she asked, sitting on a stool beside him as Morton re-bandaged his hand.

"Very. How's our child of the night?"

"He's in surgery. Early says it's a miracle the stake missed his heart but it severed a few arteries and did some damage to his right lung. He's lost a lot of blood. If they can get the bleeders he stands a pretty good chance all things considered. The surgery will be a long one, though with all the splintered wood that needs extracting and one of his ribs needs repair. The longer he's under …"

"But he has a chance. John'll be able to live with that …" Roy said thoughtfully, staring at the door and then glancing around for wherever the nurse could have put his watch.

"It's midnight," Dixie told him. "Something wrong? You're not hurt elsewhere are you?"

"No … no. Listen, Dix, you didn't happen to hear anything over the radio about a delay at the fire scene did you?"

"No, the last report we had is that there are no more victims being brought in." Dix studied Roy's face. "I'll go and check on the squad's ETA, okay?"

"That'd be great … 'Cause you know, I'd love to get back to the station to change and all."

Dix just smiled at Roy's code words for _I'm worried about Johnny. He's late._

Dix relayed a message to Station fifty-one through dispatch. The message she got back was not reassuring. John had been sent to get a Coke and didn't return. The fairgrounds were being combed for him. Dixie picked up the phone and called Joanne. She assured Roy's wife that Roy was alright but asked her to come to Rampart.

Dixie stepped back into Roy's room, a lie ready on her lips. Roy wasn't discharged yet; Morton wanted a nerve specialist to have a look before he could go home.

"They're a little delayed, Roy. Shouldn't be too long. Now, why don't I get you a pair of scrubs?"

Roy got the scrubs on with a little help from Nurse McCall. The warmth felt good but did nothing to settle his nerves. A million scenarios played out in his mind. Did the church re-ignite? Did the squad get into an accident on the way to Rampart? Was John injured somehow?

Roy fiddled and fidgeted, reminding Dixie very much of his partner. The specialist came and performed a few tests declaring that Roy's hand would be fine in ten days. A light knock on the door brought Joanne. Roy hugged her and leaned over her shoulder at the same time.

"Jo, honey, it's so good to see you," he said sincerely. "Did you pass John out in the hall?"

"Why no, I didn't see the squad when I pulled in so I assumed he must still be at the fairground. It's all over the news. Those poor kids. Have their parents been notified yet?"

"I'm not sure," Roy told her, his stomach squirming with discomfort thinking about the grim news those parents would soon get, an officer at their door in the middle of the night.

And then Vince walked in, followed by Cap.

_Oh God…_

Roy squeezed Joanne's hand.

"How's the hand, pal?" asked Cap.

Small talk. Not good.

"I'm okay, Cap, thanks."

Roy willed the door to open. It didn't. He strained his ears for Gage's voice in the hall.

"Where's John?"

"We don't know."

The words hung in the air for all of thirty seconds.

"What do you mean, you don't know? He was going to bring in the squad right behind us. He was fine and … He was fine, right?"

"John was exhausted, like all of us, I told him to go get himself a Coke and sit down with us for a few minutes before trying to drive," Cap said, guilt lacing his words. "And he didn't come back."

"What, just like that? He didn't come back … what does that even mean? Was he hurt? Did he pass out somewhere? Did you check the men's rooms, the squad … sometimes Johnny falls asleep in the passenger seat …"

"We checked. All of them. Marco brought the squad in. The police are combing the streets for him. They fear …"

"No … just no." Roy said this like denying it would make it less true but in his heart he knew. He jumped from the table not sure of where he was going. He got light headed from the exhaustion, smoke and pain killers. Joanne led him back to the gurney and Vince and cap helped him sit.

"I'm so sorry, Roy. We're doing everything we can to find your partner. These criminals are bold. It's a very lucrative trade and they can afford a few flunkies getting caught if it comes to it, they were hiding in plain sight this time …" Vince sounded angry at himself. He'd been in charge of the fairgrounds.

"It's not your fault, Vince," Roy managed. "There were cops crawling all over that place before the fire … Oh my God …"

Cap nodded confirming Roy's surmises. The fire was set deliberately. All emergency personnel's attention would be turned toward the fire and crowd control. Roy had only to look at Vince to get the rest of the story.

"They took a little girl and boy too when they got separated from their mother during the panic."

"Kids …" Roy trailed off. _All three of them._

Joanne cried on Roy's shoulder which was numb, hell all of him was numb. Dixie tried to hold it together but swiped furiously at her long lashes. Marco knocked and entered, pale faced and looking lost.

"We never thought when we sent him to get a Coke … I mean we're firemen for Pete's sake! We're supposed to be …"

"We didn't know, Marco," Cap said gently, placing his arm over Marco's shoulder.

"We're stood down for twenty-four hours. I sent Stoker and Chet home. Mike's wife picked him up and Chet's mom's on her way to the fairground where he's waiting with some guys from sixteen. I have an emergency safety issue meeting at HQ to go to at five a.m.," Cap said solemnly.

Mama Lopez arrived about five minutes later. Vince left to go back to work.

"Oh, Marco," Mama said, opening her arms to her son. Normally Marco would turn bright shades of pink when Mama did this at picnics or family gatherings for the station but this time he let her embrace him, burying his head into her shoulder.

"Thanks for coming, Mrs. Lopez," Cap said.

"I called the church. We've started prayers for our Juan."

Marco didn't even protest as his mother led him through the doors to go home. Every man was numb with fear and horror. Was John being mutilated now? Was he scared? Who would find his body? All of the men had come to terms with the fact that at any time, they could meet their end from a fire, a careless driver at an MVA rescue or exposure to toxic chemicals. But not this. This had no name. It was fear itself.

XXXX

"Mmmnggg," John moaned as he was bumped along in a folded position. He tried to move. His eyes opened wide with sudden lucidity. He was bound and gagged. His heart started an ungainly staccato feeling like it was going to beat its way out of his chest. He tried to straighten, whacking his head against … a tire iron he guessed. His feet hit a wheel well. He was in a trunk!

The darkness of the confined space was broken by two slits of red, brake lights shining through the trunk lid. The rough fabric of the turnout coat underneath him being jostled by John's struggles released smoke, which mixed with the new rug smell of the trunk. The motion mixing with the fumes and smoke made him nauseas. He knew he had to keep it together. If he threw up now, he could asphyxiate. He forced himself to take a few deliberate breaths, desperate to open his mouth and swallow air. What was coming in through his already soot filled nostrils wasn't enough to keep a gerbil alive.

XXXX

Faint whimpers. Children's voices. They filled John's heart with dread. From the backseat someone shushed scared children.

"Quiet them!" someone shouted.

The noise ceased.

_Nooooo please!_ Gage screamed inside his head begging to wake up now from a horrible nightmare. Any minute now, Chet would be hovering over his very safe bed back at the station making fun of him for crying out in his sleep. Gage would do anything to see the Phantom's face lingering over him right now, moustache grinning down at him.

But it never happened.

The car made a sharp turn sending his folded form sliding into the tire iron again. Stars danced inside his skull and the trunk was popped, harsh lamps from posts pointing down at him as if to say _there he is, don't let him get away._

Surprisingly gentle hands picked him up from the trunk.

"We're going to have to get a van. We can't keep bringing them in like this. It's not humane," a male voice said calmly.

_As opposed to what! _John thought desperately.

The gag was unplugged and Gage coughed and gasped, the sudden rush of air burning his parched throat.

"Here. Drink." A bottle of water was held to his mouth. He took some in but spat it out at the last minute looking up in suspicion.

"It's only water. I assure you. We're not here to make you suffer. In fact it's our goal to end suffering."

The sickly sweet kindness in the way-too-calm voice freaked John out more than he had been in the car.

"Then let me go," John rasped, suddenly bent double in a fit of coughing. When he stood back up he caught sight of the two children in the back seat. Their chests rose. They were alive and now John's fear from hearing the kid's voices earlier was realized.

"Let them go. Please, they're just … just kids."

"Take them inside. Make them comfortable," said the man who was clearly in charge.

The outside of the building was clapboard but once inside the harsh lights resembled a hospital. Before the doors closed John heard the ocean outside and there was a salty tang in the air. He took a deep breath, leaned one way and than barrelled his body into the other causing his two bodyguards to clang together in front of him but they quickly regained their footing and grabbed him roughly, lifting him from his feet by his bound hands. John had no idea what he was doing anyway; he could only take pin-steps with his bound feet. There was no hope of escape. No hope of anything.

"Get patient fifty-one into the showers and put him in room five," instructed the man who Gage could see clearly now in the light. The man was about Dr. Brackett's age, dark blond hair and hazel eyes. He wore a white coat and a stethoscope hung around his neck. He bent low over the children one at a time taking vitals apparently as they lay on small gurneys. Gage struggled against his bonds as hard as he could as the children were wheeled away from him.

"No, you've got to let them go!" he yelled.

The man with the stethoscope came back up the hall. He took out a syringe and plunged it into Gage's upper arm.

"That should calm you down, young man. Don't worry; they're in good hands. No one hurts here. You won't either. You have my word."

"Your word! Your word? What … What is this place? What are you doing to me!" Gage's words slowed as he tried to put sentences together. The lights blinked at him in a friendly sort of way and his _escorts_ slackened their grips on him as he became more pliant.

The water seemed to fall in slow motion capture diamonds all around him as his body was scrubbed of the soot and debris. It almost felt good when someone washed shampoo through his sooty hair. He was toweled dry and a warm, dry hospital gown was draped across his shoulders. He was led to a gurney in the centre of a room with drop lighting and sterile white walls. His body wanted to fight the restraints that tied him hand and foot to the bed but his brain wouldn't cooperate. A light, white sheet was dropped over his body and he was left alone.

His brain warred between calm and all out freaking out. Bruce's face crept into his memory even behind his tightly shut eyelids. The long gouges down his sides, the pinch of pain on his face. No one hurts here …

Gage's heart sped up as the door slowly opened, tears leaked from his eyes, he pulled with all his might against the restraints, his back arching as if his torso could take off on its own.

A clipboard lowered to reveal a face deep in thought. Stethoscope man. A woman in a white uniform lagged behind him. The creaking of the bed being sat up filled the room drowning out the sound of his own heart. The last bit of him that honestly believed he'd wake up from a nightmare died then. The drugs made him clumsy and slow but did nothing to stop his heart from racing again. Blood pounded in his ears.

"It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to ask you a few questions."

John's eyes followed stethoscope guy and he bit his tongue. He would say nothing. He would give them nothing. They might be able to take it. But he wouldn't give it to them.

John's gown was lifted revealing his chest and belly. The sheet covered him from the waist down. A cold finger traced the scar from his spleen removal.

"Damn it! This is the second time they've brought me a compromised specimen!" he spat and it sounded like anger was largely foreign to him despite his macabre job.

… They never took Bruce's organs. They just killed him and dumped him, Gage gulped to himself.

Fingers poked in his stomach, his sides, pried his eyes open, pulled his ears back to look into to. Cold stethoscopes listened to his chest, his carotid artery in his neck. A needle plunged into his arm and several vials of blood were drawn. His skeleton danced on the wall in his x-rays. In the darkness of the room voices muttered crowded around pictures of his insides.

"He has two viable kidneys and lungs. Liver intact but we'll have to take a biopsy to check for damage since he's had his spleen removed. Eyes look okay too. Heart exceptional. You're lucky," Stethoscope man said, shuffling in his pockets and taking out wads of money and paying the two men who stood beside him. "But you better start bringing me intact specimens from now on. I won't pay for scarred or damaged goods you got me? Now go call April and ask if she's got any new leads on our newest liver acquisition. Mr. M. isn't doing well and I don't want to lose a sale. I have days worth of testing to do to find a compatible liver and this guy's won't do. If April has no leads, call our Minnesota contacts."

Gage banged his head on the gurney. It did nothing to clear the fog from the drugs away.

There were more tests. Then a mask was fitted over his face. Someone clamped their hands down on the mask and Gage held his breath for as long as he could. He lost the fight. Anesthetic gas invaded his lungs and he passed out, his last ironic thought, at least I didn't suffer long …


	3. Chapter 3

Joanne followed Dr. Morton's directions. She slipped the sleeping pills he gave her into a cup of hot cocoa when Roy got home from the hospital. She watched his betrayed expression soften into defeated love as he slid sideways slowly on his plush couch. She covered him with the soft throw and propped his head up onto a cushion and his damaged hand onto another, smaller pillow, checking the fingertips for warmth like Morton asked her to do.

Joanne slipped into the kitchen to phone Cap's wife. Emily Stanley had to keep her husband from pacing a hole into their carpet and insist he go take a shower. The poor man was due at HQ in only three hours. Emily didn't want to intrude at such a bad time but she had to ask Joanne if her and Hank's twelve-year-old daughter Susanna could come stay with them for the day so she could drive Hank to HQ. He was exhausted and she didn't want him driving.

"Sure, Jenny loves when Susanna comes over. I'll let them help me bake. It'll keep me sane and them occupied and I'll send some things over to the station and to the guy's homes."

Emily promised to bring over some chocolate chips and other baking needs if the kids were going to bake all day. "Oh and I have some overly ripe bananas they can turn into banana bread …" Emily's voice trailed off. Banana bread muffins with chocolate chips a- la-Jenny were John's favorite.

Joanne couldn't even find it in her to placate that Johnny would be alright. This wasn't like the other times when it was up to the doctors and John and his injuries. This time there was no rhyme or reason. No forehead to stroke, no hand to hold, no Johnny.

XXXX

Roy stirred on the couch at seven o'clock. He got up. Joanne was asleep in the lazy boy chair and there was a pair of shoes that were too small for Jo and too big for Jen by the front door. Susanna's voice mixed with Jen's giggles from upstairs putting a face to the wonder about the shoes. It hit him all at once. Cap's daughter was here because Cap was at HQ at a meeting that was way too late to do his partner any good.

Roy opened and closed the front door several times in panic, not knowing what to do, realizing with an all consuming fear and guilt that there was nothing he _could_ do. There were no beams to search under, no flashlights that would reveal an errant partner who'd turned the wrong way in a building, no blushing Gage who'd chased a nurse down a few hallways. He was gone, simply vanished.

XXXX

They say the first twenty-four hours after a disappearance are the most critical. In all honesty, that was a lie. Most victims of heinous crimes were dead long before that and every man at the table at HQ knew it.

Cups of coffee were thrust at Captain Stanley every time his went empty. No one knew what specifically to say. They all knew how close the men of fifty-one were. Brothers, like most other stations.

"I'm sorry, Hank," McKonikee stated.

"He's not dead," Hank said firmly. "At least not yet …" His voice wavered in tired defiance.

"Maybe there's a chance … yeah, there has to be a chance, right?" McKonikee kindly allowed despite his doubts. "In the meantime we have to plan out some extra safety precautions and save our other men from the same fate."

Hank looked up gratefully as McKonikee started the meeting by passing around pamphlets.

"Okay, men, we've never faced this type of thing before. Since it seems like specific types are being targeted, namely the young and healthy it only makes sense that our departments are being targeted. All of our personnel as with other targets undergo fairly rigorous and routine physical examinations making us prime for the taking. I have some papers here to go over with all of you. L.A.P.D has offered suggestions to other areas of our city that stand out as likely targets. Please refer to page two of you booklet and we'll see if we can benefit from others tactics."

Paper shuffled and remarks of "good idea", or "that won't work" floated around the room. McKonikee continued on.

"The Olympic training center is having their athletes picked up and dropped of by chartered bus. The Police Academy and training center in Alameda has started an escort service for trainees from out of town who are probably more vulnerable. Two local colleges have temporarily terminated practice of most outdoor sports. Even fast food restaurants with youth workforces have started drive-home services for their employees working the night shift when buses aren't running. We can't unfortunately do our jobs effectively with any of those measures in place."

"Sorry I'm late," Vince Howard said, walking in with a paper cup of coffee in his hands followed by another very tired looking officer.

McKonikee got up and shook hands with the officer. Introductions were made and Vince Howard explained that several officers would begin riding with squads or engines undercover as ride-along trainees. They would be eyes and ears while the actual firemen and paramedics concentrated on their jobs. It was the best that could be done on such short notice.

"Hank, Constable O'Ryan will be riding with your paramedic, Roy Desoto and you'll need to assign another paramedic to replace Johnny … um, until he's found."

XXXX

Craig Brice offered to fill in for Johnny but this time he never touched Gage's spare helmet that gleamed from the locker, shivering when he remembered that Gage's other helmet was found on the ground at the fairgrounds and tagged as evidence. Craig vowed to cut Desoto some slack.

Roy reported for work pale and unshaven, so unlike himself. Cap overlooked it during roll call. Stoker offered to do the latrines, the Phantom was nowhere to be seen and Chet and Marco glumly accepted the dorms. Roy tossed a key to Brice after Cap made his announcements.

"Here's the key to the compartments _Brice_. Knock yourself out."

"Desoto," Brice called after the blonde paramedic's retreating back.

Roy turned around, glaring, just waiting for a smart comment. Instead the key sailed through the air back toward Roy who caught it deftly in his good hand despite his lack of sleep and total exhaustion.

"I'm here to fill in. Temporarily. Even I know when to call a truce and agree to disagree and now is that time."

Craig pushed his glasses up on his nose again and cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable and at a loss as to what to say. He was shaken as well as any of the men. The rulebook didn't have anything to offer on how not to be kidnapped and filleted on the job and nothing about what to say to someone who lost their best friend. He knew he was socially inept, knew people didn't like him but he protected himself the only way he knew how, from behind a book of legal and medical jargon that would keep him from ever having to talk to anyone on a social level.

Roy for his part said nothing to that but took two cups down and filled one for Brice. Not knowing what the snotty paramedic took in his coffee, Roy handed him the hot liquid and a spoon and made a vague hand gesture toward the cream and sugar. He then sat down and sipped at his coffee. Brice sat down on the other side of the room. The silence was comfortable except for the huge elephant in the room that followed all of them wherever they went.

Roy abdicated his seat in the driver's side several times that day on calls. He stared out into the passing streets as if searching.

"Gage is a resourceful young man. If there's any way at all he could …" Brice began.

"He's not a cat, Brice, as much as we all tease him about having nine lives. How many do you think he has left?"

Roy tried to tone down his volume. He didn't mean to sound so defensive. It wasn't Brice's fault that things were so screwed up.

"Listen, Brice, I'm sorry. It's just that … you know what's so bad about all this? Gage is probably glad it's him and not me. God, the last time we were together …"

Brice waited patiently for Roy to continue. He had no idea what to say but he could listen.

"Sometimes someone's gotta make the call, right?" Roy asked suddenly.

"Of course. Our job sometimes requires split-second decision making," Brice said reasonably.

"He never listens, Brice," Roy said, suddenly smiling sadly despite the pain. "I swear I want him to but when I see him again, smiling in that cocky-never-say-die way I just want to punch him and hug him at the same time."

"Well this time I think you might want to hug him first," Brice said. "And whatever happened between you I'm sure John understands."

Roy's mind swept back to the fire, his soot-faced partner stumbling back through the darkness to help him save the vampire. How ironic. If he'd only followed the order, Roy would probably dead and John wouldn't be missing or worse, he'd have been surrounded by his fellow shift mates grieving and no one could have touched him. All so Roy could go home and be daddy to his kids.

"Damn him!" Roy sobbed despite his best efforts.

Brice pulled the squad over and let Roy collect himself before going back to the station.

"Listen, Desoto, I'd be willing to punch him for you once he's found safe and sound," Brice offered, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, my hand's too sore to do it properly," Roy sniffed. "And thanks, Brice. Let's go."

Fate was too cruel to let them go back to the station and they were toned out.

After bringing in a little girl whose leg had fallen through the slats of her very tall tree house, Roy leaned against the counter at Rampart completely whipped. Brice did an admiral job helping on the rescue but he was no John Gage.

Dixie tapped her pen on her clipboard as Brice and Roy finished their coffee, waiting for another call.

"You didn't ask this time," Dixie said quietly.

"I figure you'd tell me," Roy said.

"Yeah …"

Roy asked each time they came if anyone had found John … or his body. He gave up after the sixth time.

"Desoto, we should head back," Brice said.

Roy was about to give him another glare when Brice put his hands up in surrender.

"I merely felt it was time you ate something. You didn't eat lunch when we stopped for a burger and with all the coffee you're going to end up sick."

Roy swiped a hand across his stubbly face. Brice was right. Well, there had to be a first time for everything.

"If you're tired, I can drive," Brice offered. Roy chucked the keys to him with mumbled thanks. At least Brice was trying not to drive him crazy. Maybe the little space cadet had a heart after all. _Well, best he hide it then or some sick bastard will steal it_, Roy mused and shuddered thinking of Johnny for the millionth time that day.

Supper was over by the time they found themselves back in the station. The mood was somber as Stoker indicated that food was being kept warm for them in the oven. Roy poured coffee and neglected to retrieve food. Brice got the oven gloves and placed a steaming plate in front of Roy. He took his own plate to the couch and sat down to eat, figuring on letting Roy have a break from him.

"Thanks, Brice," Roy said quietly.

"You're welcome Desoto."

Roy swallowed his food, not tasting a bite. Was Johnny being fed? Was he hungry? Was he alive?

XXXX

Cap called Roy and Brice into his office and Roy's feet were leaden with dread. There was news. Cap didn't close the door to the office and Roy blew out the breath he was holding. It wasn't about John.

"It seems the kidney victim woke up yesterday in the ICU. He wasn't able to talk for long but he gave a few leads to the police. I'm afraid it's not much to go on but the man heard waves and seagulls as he was brought to a building. He's pretty certain it was by the water. I know it isn't much to go on. He wasn't held long, about a day or two and he said it was like a hospital. He was kept sedated for the most part but he said he saw what he thought were nurses and doctors and patients. He was able to give a good description of one of the suspects whom he figured was a nurse. A sketch artist is finishing up a composite based on his descriptions before he passed out again."

Hope flared in Roy's chest but the man said he hadn't been held long and he was the only survivor they'd found. The rest had been brutally emptied and dumped. This man wasn't supposed to survive either and Roy knew that whomever was doing this wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"Your ride-along is here, fellas. I know we haven't had time to prepare him to look like a real trainee so you'll have to do the best you can."

Brice excused himself to go speak to the undercover officer while Roy had a few words with his captain.

"How are you holding up, Roy?" Cap asked, looking as tired as Roy felt.

"I don't know." It was true. Roy had let himself cry a few times but it felt wrong. It felt like giving up and he wouldn't do that. He'd let himself have hope but that too felt wrong, like walking a toothpick ledge over a canyon and expecting not to fall eventually.

"You okay with Brice? I could probably get someone else tomorrow."

"Yeah, actually the little punk's trying to help," Roy said, a sad smile playing on his drawn features. "Hasn't locked the compartment once or quoted the rule book. Except for reminding me to wear gloves to cover my hand wounds."

"That's good to hear. I have a feeling somewhere in there we may find a real boy," Cap said of the former wooden-like rulebook puppet.

"Don't say it, Cap. Please. Just don't. Not yet."

Cap hadn't meant to sound like maybe Brice could take Johnny's place. Never. He was just glad that Roy didn't have to deal with any other issues at this horrible time.

"I won't, Roy, pal. I won't."

Roy looked at Cap forlornly like a little kid wanting out of the principal's office.

"Dismissed; and Roy, if you need to rest, why don't you take a nap in the dorms? The hose is hung and you look like you could use some shut eye."

"Thanks, cap."

XXXX

April Seaquest watched in anger as the survivor in room 223 of the ICU described her to a tee, up to and including the mole under her right eye and her greener than green eyes. She'd have killed him there and then if she weren't under such close scrutiny from her screw up downstairs with that damned Desoto guy. Still her mission was accomplished. Her _'whoopsie'_ blood tests yielded five thousand dollars from her other, much more generous employer. She'd sold them John Gage basically, hook, line and sinker, or, kidney, liver and heart, however you wanted to look at it. Why only a week ago Gage was wheeled through these halls for minor smoke inhalation and she'd batted her pretty eye lashes at him and begged him not tell her bosses that she'd _erroneously_ drawn his blood. John never said a word. The sap.

April's twisted pride caused her to twirl her short brown locks through her fingers in thought. Sure, Gage hadn't ratted her out like his good for nothing partner had, but he hadn't asked her out either. Not that she would have said yes. It was the principle though. The minute she'd walked into Rampart she heard tales of the legendary Casanova paramedic John Gage. He barely missed asking a new nurse out. April huffed out a discontented sigh and decided to work a late shift at her other job. She'd find out why the obviously blind paramedic didn't ask her out.

In the meantime, April would have to ask her boss to remove her mole and she'd dye her hair before the composite sketch was made public and before her next shift at Rampart if she dared to go back. No one would question it much or make the connection she hoped. After all she was a nurse, a Florence Nightingale of supreme mercy and composite sketches were so … sketchy most of the time anyway. She laughed quietly. People were so gullible. She'd kill the man in ICU if she got the chance just to be on the safe side.

XXXX

John sunk away almost to oblivion, but not quite because that would have been too easy.

"I don't want him fully anesthetized at any time. Ms. P. who is currently awaiting his liver isn't doing well and I don't want him saturated with drugs or it will further compromise the success of her surgery.

So John listened as they took biopsies of his liver for someone else. It wasn't pain so much as it was pressure and pulling, sick suctioning noises made him want to puke but his gag glands were frozen like the rest of him. A tube snaked down his throat forcing him to breath at their will. Inside he panicked but his body was frozen in place. His eyes were taped shut. He tried to shut out the sounds. He counted his heartbeats. How long did he have before they ceased?

A few times John went out completely. It was a mercy. He was jolted awake in what would normally have been a jump-out-of-bed reaction and his eyes fought the tape that held them shut. Scissors dove around in his gut as someone dabbed at his side the warm liquid that flowed from him. White-hot agony would have blinded him anyway. It was better not to see.

Parts of John's life flashed behind closed eyelids, a raft to float upon amongst the sea of pain that invaded his body. Tears leaked from under the tape loosening the edges and adding an itch to the pain that drove him crazy.

"Get his pressure back up now!" someone ordered.

The operating table was tilted quickly so his head was below his feet. The blood pounded in his ears until mercy took him once more.

_He sat on a rock beside a placid lake. A stone skipped out across the water and he turned around to see who threw it. Chet grinned._

_"This is nice, Gage. Why didn't you pick this place to take Roy and I to last year instead of that crappy place out of state last year?"_

_"It wasn't crappy, Chet," John retorted before realizing something. He'd never been here before._

_John looked around, trying to place the area._

_"Besides … I don't know where we are."_

_"What do you mean you don't know where we are?"_

_John studied the place again. Something was wrong with the very outside, it seemed to be surrounded by an opaque pinkish, flexible, rubbery wall, fragile, like it would burst at any moment and the beauty would disappear._

_There was a popping noise and the place exploded in a rush of water pouring all over his body, the trees scraping him as they rushed by as if poured down a drain. The opaque wall turned out to be one of the many water balloons Chet had set up over the years to soak his pigeon only now he was hiding in it._

_"Chet! Help me!" Johnny screamed as he tried to hold onto his memories. God he'd miss that. Even the stupid water balloons. He tried to hold onto the rubber of the balloon as it dripped through his fingers and the image of the placid lake was replaced by a withering station fifty one as it too crumbled from his mind leaving nothing but the stark white agony of hell._

"Mnnnn!" Gage moaned desperately passed the tube. _Please help me. Noooo!_ His vitals spun out control, the beeping growing frantic until he wished his heart would just give out and he'd die.

"Give him another 2cc's of Demerol and make sure he doesn't move!"

"Okay, I have the liver sample. Close him up and put him in recovery. Watch him for jaundice, I've got twenty grand resting on this if he's the guy."

They hadn't killed him. Yet. The Demerol dulled his senses as he counted the stitches and felt each pull and tie-off. Someone dabbed the sweat that soaked his brow. He wanted to see and didn't want to see at the same time as the tape remained in place and claustrophobia set in the darkness consuming him so fast there would be nothing left for his tormentors, or him.

"Ahhhhh!" he screamed as the tube was pulled from his throat. He was ordered to cough and breath as deeply as he could and he would have defied it if it weren't such a reflexive action. A mask was applied to his face. He breathed fast, hyperventilating until he passed out from pain and shock.


	4. Chapter 4

Every fireman and cop in L.A. County was on edge. It was two days since John Gage went missing and no new bodies were found. The only missing person's report turned out to be a teenager who got mad at her family and wanted to punish them into worry. She was found at a friend's house. Needless to say given the extreme circumstances she was charged with public mischief when normally she'd have been turned over to her parents for punishment, which would also be swift and forthcoming.

Vince Howard leaned over maps of the vast waterfront. What kind of clue was _'I heard seagulls and waves'? _Still it was better than nothing.

Business licenses spread out over every desk in the office as aerial shots of buildings were matched up with places like _M & M meat imports_ and _Fifi's Toy Emporium Warehouse_. The work was slow and arduous. There were hundreds upon hundreds of warehouses, importers, cold storage and other industries dotting the shore. Countless docks needed to be canvassed. Already government docks were fitted with expensive camera surveillance equipment and private security firms were asked to double their manpower and they'd be compensated. The coast guard added extra patrols for suspicious activity. They were on their way. If only Gage and the others could hold out that long.

XXXX

A white wall came into focus slowly as tape was pulled gently from his brow. John winced and tried to sit up, hitting a wall of pain in his abdomen. A pretty blond stared down at him. The face was familiar but in his groggy condition he couldn't place her. He shouldn't be able to place her at all!

Faces ran through his head at the speed of light. April. The ditsy new nurse from the E.R.! But her hair was brown, wasn't it?

"Wha… What's happening to me?" Hope flared as John tried to remember being rescued. The stupid nurse could suck as much blood from him as she liked. He was saved! He was at Rampart!

But no … This wasn't right. The walls were tiled and yellow at Rampart, not stark white. And Roy would be here. He would. Roy wouldn't let him wake up alone…

"Wh-where am I?" Gage asked; his voice laced with fear.

"Shhhh, it's okay, Mr. Gage," April soothed.

John could only watch helplessly as she dipped a swab in some Betadine and she swathed his incision. Gage sucked in his stomach and winced, taking a breath in through his clenched teeth.

April went to the end of his bed and sat him up. He hated to admit it felt good to change position. He swung his leg out of the bed experimentally. It was no good. He was as weak as a kitten.

"I'm pulling a double shift," April explained. "I'm really dedicated, right? I saw your friend the other day. I'm afraid I accidentally drew his blood too. Silly me. Oops. No takers yet though but who knows, maybe you'll get to see him again."

April took his chart from the end of the bed. "Oh, tsk tsk, refusing food? We can't have that. You need your strength. She found a spoon and some tapioca pudding on the untouched tray. She popped the lid off and held the spoon to his mouth.

John took the tapioca and spat it in her face. April drew back her polished hand to smack him.

"Miss S., I do not condone mistreatment of our donors. You know this. If I find you have mistreated anyone, I will put you on our _list_. Am I clear?"

It was stethoscope man.

"Yes Dr. R!" April gulped convulsively.

So stethoscope man had a name. Well, an initial.

Gage's gown was lifted and his abdomen was palpated. He winced in pain when fingers probed around the incision. _No redness or swelling on sutures _and things like that were said. Dr. R. made notations in his chart before shoving a thermometer in his mouth.

His chin was held when he tried to spit the thermometer out. The glass clamped under his tongue recalled the nausea from the drugs and vomiting was a definite possibility. A hand clamped around his wrist to take his rising pulse.

"We're almost ready for him. Don't bother with the force feeding, he won't need it."

John's heart rate increased twofold. Were they going to gut him like a fish here and now, without even knocking him out? He suddenly missed the tape over his eyes, for the sympathetic and weirdly understanding eyes of Dr. R. were more unnerving than the blind confusion. His tongue ejected the thermometer defiantly and he struggled against his bonds again, pain searing his stomach muscles.

"I wish there was a way to convince you donors that struggling only makes things worse. It lengthens your stay when you fail to cooperate," Dr. R. said with a gentle pat on the John's shoulder that sent waves of revulsion through him. The thermometer was placed back in his mouth, the hand clamped under his chin a little tighter. His life went on fast forward again, flashing to a call he and Roy responded to awhile back.

_Rampart, we have a male victim, six years old. Mother was trying to take his temperature when he was experiencing flu-like symptoms and he's bitten off the end of a glass mercury thermometer. Suspect ingestion of mercury and inhalation of mercurial vapors.._

_"Fifty-one, start an IV with Ringers Lactate and administer one ampoule Atropine. Start O2 immediately and transport. Bring the broken thermometer with you but seal it in a bag and do not touch it with bare hands. Bring the mother as well, she might have inhaled some of the vapors. Have L.A.P.D. cordon off the home until the mercury is cleaned up and advise anyone on site not to try to vacuum the contents up as it spreads the vapors."_

_"Ten four, squad fifty one out."_

John bit the end of the glass thermometer off, blood trickling down his chin. He spat it at April defiantly. If he was going to die he wasn't going to make it easy for them.

"Ms. S. inform cleaning staff we have a mercury spill," Dr. R. stated calmly. He then grasped Gage's chin and forced his mouth open, plucking a piece of glass from the inside of his cheek.

"I-I sw-swallowed mercury," Gage said with some satisfaction. He really hoped he'd spit it out. "You-you can't use me now."

Dr. R. actually had the gall to look down upon the young paramedic with sympathy and pity. "I know you're a paramedic. I know you want to live. I also know you wouldn't swallow mercury deliberately," he said. But then he turned to April and ordered her to call an orderly to take him to radiology to find out how much if any mercury he'd ingested.

"Call the Minnesota office and have them prep the other donor instead. Tell them this one is temporarily under quarantine."

Gage sunk into the bed further. How could this have happened! Now someone else was going to die first. He'd saved himself for now … unless some mercury really _had_ slipped down his throat. How many donors did these people have!

"I didn't swallow any," the terrified paramedic confessed as he was lifted from his bed to a gurney. "You can use me. P-please don't kill anyone else."

"I know you like to play doctor, son, but leave this to the big boys, okay?"

Gage was stripped and scrubbed in a shower. He spat blood onto the white tiled floor and watched in horror as it mingled with the super hot water, swirling in pinkish vortexes down the drain. The doctor's words rang in his ears. He hadn't thought it out. He'd only acted. He knew there was no way to totally prevent swallowing or breathing when he'd bitten the thermometer and with the added bonus of paramedic training on his side, he knew that open wounds and mercury were bad news. His tongue darted to the long, painful gash on the inside of his cheek. Panic seized him. Even if by some miracle he was saved, he may have killed _himself!_

Gage's head was tilted back by human forms in HAZMAT suits. His eyes were flushed with normal saline. Water was flushed through his sinus cavities running out his nose and mouth until he thought he'd drown. Disjointed screams of agony were ripped from him when a toothbrush scrubbed the open wound in his mouth harshly. He hung limply supported by the HAZMAT suited people. He was wrapped in a sheet and wheeled down to radiology where once again x-rays were taken.

Within the hour Dr. R. and April were back, both with wet hair and wearing different clothes, cheeks flushed from a scrub of their own.

"I trust we won't have any more of that? Very inconvenient to have to undergo decontamination in the mid day, Mr. Gage, but I must say, our Ms. S. was very thorough," Dr. R. said playfully in the hated nurse's direction."

"You're entirely welcome, Dr. R.," Ms. S. said in mock bashfulness. It was worse than the dreaded daytime television John was forced to watch while laid up in Rampart with a broken leg.

John lay shivering on the gurney until exhaustion won out over trying to keep vigilant when he knew there was nothing he could do to save himself with this many people around.

When John woke, Dr. R. stood over him with a chart in his hands. He wasn't poisoned. He'd die later in much more complicated, creative ways and somewhere in Minnesota a last breath was drawn and a new life began for someone else.

_Why?_

He tired so hard to rein in his terror. Sobs tore from his throat and he spat more blood from his mouth wounds. Dr. R. ordered someone to put a few stitches into the inside of his cheek to stop the blood flow. He didn't fight it. He was too tired. His body ached; he was in the slaughterhouse with a waiting list.

April arrived in his new room around midnight or as near as he could figure it from the slatted windows near the ceiling of the old factory or whatever this place used to be. Dr. R. followed behind.

"Listen, kid, if there was any other way. But people just don't sign those little cards. They figure people are gonna bump 'em off if they break their arm and use 'em for parts or something. Stupid really. If only they'd just sign, I wouldn't need to do this."

"You don't have to do this! It's money! Nothing more!" Gage coughed. The smoke from the fire at the fun-house still tore at his throat and his head felt like it was underwater from all the forced cleaning.

"I do have a fairer system than some. Oh, scoff if you like. I take a fair few of firemen for one reason. Your life expectancy is lower than an average person's anyway. You keep fit for your jobs but a lot of you die in fires or from complications from the hazards of your jobs. You're giving a chance to someone who wants to live. Who doesn't run into burning buildings when others are running out."

Gage stared at the absolutely insane maniac before him as he justified his methods and means.

"I try not to cause pain. Now sometimes I can't give a whole dose of painkiller because it compromises certain organs but I do try. And you, Mr. Gage are very lucky actually. You see you don't end here. You will go on. In others I mean. In more ways than one. Your little stunt here delayed your passing and made you eligible for our _other _donor program. We showed your photo to one of our female clients and one has agreed to purchase your … shall we say, genetic material? And this I'm happy to point out won't hurt a bit. Well, except for this part…"

"What? … What do you mean? What the hell do you mean!" Gage shouted. "You're insane!"

"No! No, please, don't do this!"

John struggled against his restraints as Dr. R. lowered the sheet to John's bicep and injected a clear liquid into his muscle.

Within seconds the arm and leg restraints were removed and John couldn't even remember why he'd wanted to bolt in the first place. He was suddenly relaxed and happy, only a thin line of worry about something he couldn't place in the back of his mind remaining, inhibitions gone.

"I leave you in good hands, happy to give you this one last night," Dr. R. said as though he were a kindly old family doctor. The door closed and April stepped up next to his bed. She looked gorgeous, like all the women did at closing time in a cheap bar. Her blond hair sparkled in the muted lights and Gage's head spun in drug induced confusion.

"Huh, what do you know about that?" April said, uncapping a small plastic bottle and sitting it on the bedside table. "Blonds do have more fun. I got to bathe a hot doctor and now this, all in one day." She sat next to him seductively but stayed fully clothed. "I love my job."

XXXX AUTHOR'S NOTES:

OPTIONAL CHAPTER PART: WARNING, THERE IS AN ASSAULT. YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ THE NEXT PARAGRAPHS TO UNDERSTAND OR ENJOY THE STORY. YOU CAN SKIP DOWN TO THE CHAPTER BREAK AND RESUME IF YOU WISH AND IT WILL BE CLEAR LATER WHAT HAPPENED EVEN IF YOU SKIP. NOT FOR CHILDREN.

John's eyes blinked slowly. Revulsion filled him when April caressed his brow, inviting him to relax but his body obeyed the drugs and her will and he felt himself sink into the mattress wanting to be pulled into sleep but unable to let himself go. He recoiled from her touch but it took everything he had not to lean in to the comfort her cool hand provided even considering the source.

April removed her hand from his forehead and warmed them by blowing seductively on them and rubbing them together. He watched in morbid fascination as the drugs pulled him further under their influence.

"So, how come you never asked me out?" April asked conversationally.

Gage opened and closed his mouth a few times, not able to form words that would make any sense and he owed her nothing; he knew that deep down but the drugs tried to make him believe otherwise.

Her warmed hands massaged the knots of tension from his shoulders. His eyes closed in appreciation he didn't want to feel. The sheet lowered from his naked torso stopping at his waist as she worked her way down his chest and stomach, avoiding the new scar. He hated himself when a groan of relief escaped. He hurt so much. Anything that cut the unbearable tension in his body was welcome despite the warnings in his head.

John gave in to her kneading of his muscles, the back of his head pressed firmly into the pillows, his arm protecting his eyes like in sleep, hiding but needing at the same time. The drugs played colorful light shows behind his eyelids, much better than when he and Chet were high on marijuana fumes from a burning van they responded to.

April's fingers played on the edge of the sheet sending shivers up his body. Her palms kneaded his hips. His eyes shot open when air rushed over his pelvis bones stopping just before they revealed him completely. His hand reached for the sheet before it was gently snagged away.

"Noooooooo," John murmured quietly even as he left his hand where April placed it back over his eyes.

"Shhh now. You're going to like this. I'm just going to massage you."

John could barely lift his head. She was still dressed. This registered as good in his brain and he lay back down.

April walked to the end of the bed, uncovering his feet and her hands bent his toes gently back and forth and rubbed up and down his sole. But she wanted his soul. She wouldn't get it. He bit back a moan of pleasure.

April worked her way up to his calves and her hands hurt and healed at the same time like they'd done since the moment she got her nursing certificate. The ball of muscle in his left leg unwound. It had bothered him for months, growing pains Brackett had told him, the last of his growth spurts making themselves known before they'd quit when he turned twenty-five. _If I ever turned twenty-five…_

He stretched his long legs as April's hands found his slim, muscular thighs.

"Noooo, st-stop," Gage said with as much decisiveness as he could muster.

"Oh come on, I'm a nurse. You like nurses."

Flashes of failed dates flew through his memory as he tried to grasp them. He wasn't the Casanova everyone made him out to be. Sure, he bragged. _'I won't be going alone on my holiday, I don't want to go anywhere alone, I'll probably have two women with me,'_ he told Roy when they were talking about their inheritance plans from the old woman's estate before that fell through. Roy had just rolled his eyes as John assured him, _'what, I'm young enough.'_

And here he was alone. And he'd never be old enough for this. Funny how words can haunt.

April smiled and let the drugs continue their pull. A crooked drunken smile broke on John's face from behind his arm, which was still draped over his head. The protesting was over.

The sheet lay draped over his waist now, so discrete yet her hand found him. His stomach muscles pulled him up into a half sit up position when she touched him so slightly, teasing him into need that he couldn't stop. Her hand left his inner thigh to gently push him back down onto the pillows. He drove the back of his head further into the pillows, his arm firmly in place over his eyes, not wanting see but gasping in pleasure when the touch returned, this time more demanding, harder. He tried to lay still but the drugs betrayed his body contorting him into thrusts.

John's heart sped up and a light sheen of sweat covered him. His arm pressed so firmly over his eye sockets stars danced before them. His other arm lashed out and grazed her back as she sat on the side of the bed. Fabric moved under his hand conflicting his brain as to what was actually happening to him. Relief flooded him. She wasn't naked. He couldn't open his eyes because he didn't want to see but his body was fully engaged. He tried holding his breath but the panting was too hard to hold back. Groans of pleasure escaped him though he tried to bite them back. The drugs were too strong to fight.

His panting increased. His back arched urgently bringing his pelvis up into her grasp further again and again until his eyes opened wide and he shot up onto his elbows exhaling loudly in euphoric release completely out of his control.

The drugs made him dizzy. The sheet obstructed his view as April did something underneath it, snaking her hand out and pocketing something. His stomach muscles tightened as a warm cloth was guided over him and the sheet was fitted over him again up to his chest. April stood so quickly it was almost possible to believe nothing had happened. His memory was leaving quickly, fading into a drug-induced sleep that would almost be welcome if he could get his breathing back under control.

A hand found his pulse point on his wrist. Very clinical. The scratching of a pen on his chart buzzed his dazed brain as he lay in confused silence.

XXXX AUTHOR'S NOTES: END OF OPTIONAL PART OF CHATPER WARNING

It was over. Gage couldn't slow his heart and somehow he knew he needed to. He didn't know why, it just seemed important. In total conflict was the fact that he didn't care. His body felt heavy and comfortable. If only his heart would shut the hell up so he could sleep. He took a few breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. The time between his blinks grew longer and he drifted on a sea of nothingness, completely lost.

XXXX

Roy dragged himself home after his shift. Jo met him at the door. Susanna had spent the night again and she and Jenny were sitting on the couch as Susanna read from The Tales of Peter Rabbit, Jenn's favourite. Chris sat on the bottom step pretending not to listen. Cute, little, white, naughty bunnies were _not _something boys cared about.

"You okay?" Jo asked, noting the dark circles under her husband's normally vibrant blue eyes.

Roy shrugged and shook his head. He wasn't alright, not by a long shot but he knew what the question meant and he loved her for it.

"Vince said not to say much but they're zeroing in on a few docks. They've laid a lot of fines on illegal warehouses so far but nothing's come up that we need to find. Lots of fish poaching being warehoused here in L.A. apparently," he said ruefully. "Now if we could only find the human poachers."

"They will, Roy."

"Yeah, they have to … even if it's too late for Johnny. Squad 16 brought in the father of the little boy that was kidnapped the night John was. Apparent heart attack."

Joanne was horrified. "When they're caught they should be charged for that too!"

"It's their collateral damage. They don't care."

"Well is the father going to be alright?"

"Early said it was stress induced and did little damage but for every minute his son is missing it isn't doing his healing any good."

John watched as Roy's hand went to his stomach and he winced slightly.

"Come in and sit down. You need to rest."

Roy sat on the couch for a minute but grew restless and found himself on the patio. He accepted the beer from Joanne and popped the top off with the bottle opener. He sat it on the table after one sip.

"Our ride-along seems pretty good. Young guy, about John's age I'd guess. Never talked to him much. There wasn't much time between runs."

"How are you and Brice getting along this time?"

"Okay I guess."

"Wow, that's different."

"I guess he's trying to be civil. It's not easy for any of us."

"Jenny's been asking about Johnny."

"What did you tell her?" asked Roy growing alarmed.

"She doesn't know that Johnny's been kidnapped but the school has had assemblies with police officers and they've been given safety speeches. The school has placed additional staff on the playground at recesses and at dismissal and the bus drivers have been warned not to let the children go with anyone that isn't on their lists and if no one is at the stop to pick the kids up, they are to take them back to the school. She suspects something's up but she doesn't know what and I don't know how much longer we can keep it from her and Chris. Johnny usually drops by at least once on his days off."

Roy sighed deeply as he took a drink of his beer. The bottle clanked heavily back onto the table and Roy choked back a sob.

"What if we have to tell her … If he doesn't …"

To say that they'd cross that bridge when they came to it didn't begin to cut it. Jo put her arms around Roy's shaking shoulders but her tears fell through the fabric too. She couldn't answer him.

"Police are in on overtime all over the city, all emergency personnel are. The hospitals are on high alert and ready to roll if it turns out to be a large trafficking operation. There's no precedent for this so for the most part we're all operating on a sort of natural disaster procedure response when it's called in; police first, then us, then … gathering evidence I guess. We're all on call until further notice."

"Well, that's a good thing, right?"

"It is. I just hope it's not too little too late."

XXXX

"I trust you slept well?" Dr. R. said smugly, smiling as he strolled into John's room with the morning sunlight that shone down from the windows John wished he could see out of. "April's quite a pistol isn't she? Then I hear that's true of you too?"

John jerked his legs and arms to avoid the doctor but the leg restraints were back. The pain in his mouth was fresh and raw and his tongue found the newly placed stitches from the thermometer glass. He was light-headed and groggy. Details of what happened last night after the shot he was given were blurry and confusing. There was pain, fear and then …_ no, no I just dreamed it. It never happened…_

The cold stethoscope was on his chest and vitals were taken. He could do nothing about it. Usually a tray of food would appear about now but today that was not the case. Dr. R. was slightly less talkative too. When two orderlies arrived pushing an IV pole, Gage knew it was the beginning of the end. People who were undergoing surgery were not given water or fed.

His mouth suddenly dry, John eye's widened as the orderlies approached. Before he could sit up he was pushed back forcefully and a needle found its mark again in his upper arm. Suddenly pliant he merely watched as an IV was placed in the vein above his right wrist. He thought to tell them that they shouldn't do that, he was right handed but then he remembered. It didn't matter anymore. This was it.

Dr. R. placed his hand on Gage's chest. "It's going to be alright. It'll all be over soon." To someone else he said, "Mr. Two will arrive in about one hour's time. Count the money and check for counterfeits. If the payment checks out, place patient fifty-one in the adjacent surgical theater and page me." Gage's eyes slipped shut and when they opened he was alone. If he thought his mind was fuzzy from the drugs last night, it was nothing in comparison to now but the strange euphoria was absent this time. Now, he couldn't think clearly but he _could _think and his mind took him to dark places, anticipation building into a dread so complete he was lost in it.

The feeling from the drug was familiar. A sedative he'd been given a few times at Rampart after injuring himself on the job. John tried to concentrate. What was it called? He ran through all the drugs he could remember A-Z while trying to place the feeling. Holding it together when all he really wanted to do was lie back and close his eyes was near impossible but something told him he needed to follow through with this train of thought that was rounding a bend on only one side of wheels and in danger of derailing at any moment.

John sat up; surprised that no one guarded him. He kept reminding himself that to lie back down was to die. His clumsy fingers fumbled with the restraints at his feet. Being familiar with this type of restraint from his work was the only thing that saved him thus far. His legs were free in five minutes, now to see if he could stand.

John swung his legs over the bed, testing his feet on the cold floor. He stood shakily, forgetting to unhook the IV as he crossed the room to the cabinet at the far end of the room. It opened. Inside was an array of drugs. Gage swayed on his feet and nearly fell as he hung on the cabinet door for support. He was about to start going over his drug list in his head from A-Z again as if he was studying for his paramedic's exam but he didn't have to. Adrenaline. _Yes! _Gage's heart sped up in anticipation. He unwrapped the pre-filled syringe and plunged it into his thigh, leaning on the counter to wait for it to counteract the sedative. It worked quickly. His mind cleared a little and his legs were firmer under him. Now to get the hell out of here.

John pulled fresh scrubs from a drawer in the cupboard and put them on. He filled the pockets with pre-filled syringes of things he figured he'd need.

XXXX

Roy had only been asleep for two hours when Jo roused him.

"Roy, Cap's on the phone."

Roy picked up the phone, his heart beating fast. He listened carefully trying not to get his hopes up. He turned to Jo when he was off the phone.

"They're conducting a raid down by pier eight. They're pretty sure it's the place where the victims are … All available paramedics and ambulances are being diverted to a command center several miles away while police and FBI converge. It's not going out through radio dispatch. They're gonna hit the place hard and they don't want any forewarning."

Joanne ran around helping Roy gather his things for work. He took her in his arms and hugged her fiercely. Downstairs Roy put his best smile on as he hugged and kissed his children even though inside he was dying.

"Be careful, Roy," Jo whispered. _Bring John back to us._

"Always."

XXXX

Roy joined Brice in the squad. Big Red pulled into traffic with them. How ironic when the mobile command center turned out to be the fairgrounds.

"Men, we're to wait here until called by L.A.P.D. officials call us into action. Until that time we are to make it look like we're merely on drills."

None of the three captains in attendance had the heart to actually make the men perform drills but they did ask them to poke around looking official. Brice silently followed Roy as he retraced Gage's steps to the concession stand three nights ago. There was nothing to see, no footprints, no signs of struggle. Of course the police already checked all that but Roy couldn't help himself. Police tape flapped in the wind uselessly between two poles. The rides had been struck and taken away to a happier place. As far as Roy was concerned, this place was tainted now.

Chet, Marco and Mike took stock of what was left of the burned out church/fun-house. The smell of smoke hung in the air all around the place from the charred wood. Bits of stained glass sparkled up at them in the sun. A biblical figure's eye stared up at them from amongst the rubble. The two teens who perished here three nights ago were found and sent on to the coroner two days ago. Mike shivered slightly and found the need to walk away. Chet and Marco followed and they sat on the bumper of Big Red.

An hour ticked by. Cap sent Brice and Chet for coffee at a shop on the corner and the men sat sipping more for something to do than for want of it. They were wired enough.

Chet found Roy.

"Roy, pal, coffee's here."

"Yeah … thanks."

Chet tapped him lightly on the back and they walked back to the others together. Mike and Marco exchanged nervous glances with them. No one wanted to see the horrors of what awaited them but everyone wanted to save people if they could. And they wanted their man back.

XXXX

John grabbed an empty glass IV bottle. He steadied himself as much as he could. Clear thought was a problem but he knew what he needed to do. He needed to get out. Chancing a peak out the tiny door window he spotted a guard. He tested the doorknob as quietly as he could. It wasn't locked. Flinging the door open he winced as the bottle smashed against the guard's head. There was no cry of surprise or pain and he slid from his chair to the floor in silence. John dragged him into the doorway nearly falling himself from exhaustion as the drugs in his system warred for supremacy.

Something told him to put the guard's clothing on so he changed again thought it brought him almost to the point of passing out. Blood trickled from his vein where the IV was pulled out. He couldn't stop now to staunch the flow but looking at the volume he knew someone had given him a blood thinner likely to make the cleaning of his organs easier.

John stepped into the hall. There was no one to question him. He rounded the corner as a nurse stepped into a room. He kept his head down. There was a door on the window side at the end of the hall! His heart quickened. _Almost there, almost there…_

"No! I want my mommy!"

A child's cries stopped him in his tracks as his heart went from pounding to frozen, his chest like ice.

A scowling nurse stalked from the room locking the door with a simple latch from the outside. Before she could see him, he turned like he'd been walking in the other direction. She called out to him but he pretended not to hear and rounded the corner. He heard her snort in disgust about having no good help around here.

Heart hammering once again, Gage found his legs and ran to the room, unlocking it. A little girl screamed in terror as he approached her. He tried to placate her only to find his words slurred by the effects of the drugs and pain in his abdomen. He did his best.

"Shhh, please, sweetheart, shhhh!" _Oh God! What am I gonna do!_ It was naïve to think he was the only victim here. The door at the end of the hall beckoned sweet freedom as the door closed and with tears in his eyes, Gage turned away from it.

"Please, be quiet. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm gonna help you. I'm gonna get you to mommy but you have to trust me. You have to stop crying and follow me …. Please."

The girl was only about six. Huge blue eyes full of terror and mistrust, blond hair matted to her face from crying. A boy of about eight sat on a bed on the opposite side of the room. Gage turned to try to reason with him.

"Look, we need to get you two out of here. There's a door at the end of the hallway and I think it leads out. I'll take you with me. You have to follow me, you understand? I'll get you out."

"Kara, stop crying. The mean lady's gone. This guy's gonna get us out."

"He's not a good guy," Kara cried taking in the uniform. "One of them took Brian away yesterday, remember?"

Thinking fast, Gage started talking.

"Look, Kara, I stole this uniform from one of the bad guys. See? It doesn't even fit me. Honest, but we only have a minute. We have to go now. Please?"

Gage stared at them. If he was stronger he would have just taken Kara over his shoulder and ran away. He needed them to trust him. He could barely keep himself together as it was.

Kara made a split second decision and the little boy who said his name was James followed John to the door where he peered both ways down the hall. Taking Kara's hands the three of them flattened themselves to the wall and made their way toward the door. Voices around the corner sent a thrill of panic up Gage's spine. He was going to die today anyway. Had he killed the kids before their time was up too?

XXXX

"Boys, we're just waiting on word now. The place is surrounded and it's a positive ID. Pier eight, warehouse twelve, the old cold storage is where the victims have been taken. There's no word on any live victims yet. I've also been asked to inform you that some of you might find yourselves working on wounded police officers, depending on how well the place is fortified. Still others may find yourselves working on members of the staff who will be up on charges of murder, forcible confinement, causing an indignity to a human body amongst other things. It will not be pretty but I hope I don't have to remind you that we are not justice and must treat these people according to our laws."

Every man nodded solemnly. The guys from fifty-one drifted apart from the others. It was so bitterly personal and until the adrenaline hit when they got to the scene there was too much time to think.

"How do you save someone like that?" Stoker finally asked. "I mean, in a fire or an MVA we don't know the people. It might be the nicest guy or woman in the world or it could be the worse but you just do your job. If we go in there to say, multiple gunshot wounds if these scum resist arrest, how do we do our job, carry them out, help triage them for the paramedics?"

"We just do it, I guess," Marco said. "I pray for the strength to be true to my job." He crossed himself and said the prayer of serenity. Then he said a prayer in Spanish that none of them could understand but the last word, Juan.

"Amen," they all quietly said.

Brice stood apart, letting them have their moment. He wasn't one of them. Roy called him over and gave him a slap on the back in a show of solidarity. Brice couldn't hide his nerves any longer either.

"I hope we find him, Desoto. I really do."

"I know. So do I, Brice. So do I."

The tones sounded inside Big Red as Cap hopped deftly up and took up the mic.

"This is it men. Time to move out. We're to meet at the corner of Pier Four and Bennet to await further instructions. Silent approach."

The cavalry was on the way. Would they be in time?


	5. Chapter 5

The footsteps in the hall were unhurried. Plainly the knowledge that something was amiss in their torture chamber had eluded the owners of the voices. But they were too close for comfort.

John knew his heart was beating too fast because he couldn't help counting the pulse as it filled his ears. He dragged himself to the nearest door peering into the tiny window to make sure it was empty. He pushed it open with his back and pulled Kara and James inside.

The voices and footsteps drifted by in complete oblivion. Kara started crying again. It was too close. John hated himself as he put his hand to her mouth. Her eyes widened in betrayal.

"Don't do that!" James cried. "That's what they did to her when they took us from the park and she fainted. They put a bag on her face when we got here and she woke up but she was still crying after that. I cried too. Is that okay?" But before Gage could answer, James dissolved into hopeless anguish too.

"Shhhh, please, yes, of course it's-it's okay. I cried too. Lots. But it's not gonna get us out of here. We have to make it to that door." Gage wanted to be soft. He wanted to hold them and tell them everything was going to be okay. Hell he wanted someone to tell him that same thing but he was beginning not to believe it again. He knew if he left them here and bolted for the door he'd never get help back to them before it was too late. But he would live.

He couldn't do it.

John felt the little girl's pulse pounding ever steadier. He kept his hand where it was. They couldn't afford to be heard.

"My name's Johnny. I'm a fireman. I was taken just like you guys were." He halted here. How much did the kids know? He'd almost blown it if they thought they were just kidnapped for ransom or something like that. He wouldn't shatter that innocence. If they got caught, best they go back to thinking that eventually they'd be returned home. Best they didn't know the horrors that awaited them.

More people strolled past the little room. It was near noon, people were on lunch. Just like a real hospital. Sick how normal they all acted as if what they did for a living wasn't murder. It would only be a matter of time before someone came for him. Fifteen minutes were gone already.

The hallway cleared. John peered out.

"Please, Kara. The door is at the end of this hallway. Just keep your eyes on it and run. Please?"

The little girl nodded and Gage carefully removed his hand. They clasped hands and took off running as fast as John was able.

"Hey!" shouted a voice from a door that opened across from them. An orderly stared into John's face. There were no excuses. This man knew the staff and John wasn't it. The orderly barrelled into John as he let go of Kara and James's hands.

"Run!" was John's last words as together the two men fell into another open doorway in a struggle for life and death. John's back hit a wheeled table and he went down. The orderly picked up a scalpel from the table as John struggled back up. John's only satisfaction now was the retreating backs of the young children as they ran for the door. His hands came up in defense, sluggish from the cocktail of drugs warring for supremacy in his body.

Too late. John's mouth formed a small Oh of surprise as the orderly grunted, plunging the blade along his ribcage until an opening was found into his chest. Shocked eyes looked up into deadly ones as John's hands dropped limply to his sides and he slid back down to a seated position.

"Oh my god," the man cried. "Dr. R.'s gonna kill me. "Nononono!" The orderly jerked John up straighter sending white-hot agony trucking through his chest. He ripped open the security guard's jacket and stared at the blossoming blood hopelessly.

"What were you doing!" the orderly shouted fiercely, striking Gage across the face, his head snapping back in whiplash that sent stars dancing before his eyes. "I have to get those kids!" The man stood in the doorway looking left and right. His fingers paused on a panic button and Gage prayed. The man's hand didn't plunge the panic button. He at least wanted to get the kids before he confessed to what he'd done.

John shifted desperately taking some pressure off his chest in order to draw breath. Something cold and metal jammed into his side. His fingers closed around a gun in the security guard's pocket.

CLICK! The gun was cocked.

The orderly swung around eyes wide in fear for his own hide looking down to the paramedic he figured would be dead by now.

"Sit on the bed," Gage swung the gun in the direction of the bed. He got to his feet; sweat beading off him like rain. The gun was foreign in his hand but the orderly didn't need to know that.

James poked his head around the corner.

"We found the door but we didn't want to leave you here," he said solemnly, taking in the blood on Gage's chest.

"No … you were supposed to run. You were supposed to get away…" Gage cried. "Go! Now! That's an order!"

_Gage! That's an order for you too!_ Roy shouted in John's shredded memories.

"You're bleeding …" James said wide-eyed.

The orderly tried to make a move with Gage's weakness and distraction. Gage aimed the gun, swallowing the lump in his throat. They didn't leave him.

"You have to go. Take Kara and run. You should be near the water. Get away from this bu-building and … and…" Gage tried to describe what he wanted the kids to do but his mind just couldn't form the sentences. "Just keep ru-running."

John stood straighter. He was done for. He was going to buy these kids their freedom with his life. It felt better than dying the other way.

"Kara won't go," the little boy persisted. "She's scared."

John wanted to yell at the child. If he could have seen his own face, he'd look just like Roy at a time like this. He wavered on his feet and several times the huge orderly inched forward on the bed.

"I want you to turn around and put your nose to wall," Gage ordered the orderly. "Put your hands on your head and don't move." He mustered all the authority he could. "I got nothing to lose. I'm dying but these kids will get out of here before I do. I'll shoot you where you stand."

The orderly seemed to debate. With the threats Dr. R. employed against April he had no doubt the staff made great wages while at the same time were sworn to secrecy and utmost caution in patient containment. He reluctantly turned his back to Gage, nose against the sterile white walls, hands on his head. He didn't see Gage's shoulders slump in relief, the gun shaking in his hand.

John put both hands on the gun, trying to steady himself.

"James, I need your help and then all three of us will get out of here. What do you say?"

"What do you want me to do?" the little boy asked in trepidation.

The scrub pants were underneath the uniform pants. Gage reached the pockets clumsily pulling out syringes he'd taken trying to focus on the minuscule writing on the packages. He couldn't see it clearly enough to read. His blood pressure was way too high and effecting his eyesight.

"C'mere," Gage slurred. The kid was only eight but if he could even spell out the letters to him he could find the right drug.

"I need you to tell me what the package says," Gage said as calmly as he could. He wasn't getting out of here. He knew it. But he was going to help the kids. "Just spell out the name on the packs."

James took the packages and one by one spelled off the names.

"T-h-o-r…" James began.

"Perfect," John grit out before James needed to finish spelling. He wasn't first in his class as the paramedic training for nothing. He instructed James to tear the package open. There was no way he could give the shot himself.

"James. Remember I told you and Kara I was a fireman? Well, I-I'm a paramedic too. Do you know what that means?"

James told him that indeed he did and tried to launch into a detailed account of his teacher going into diabetic shock and the paramedics saving her.

"Good, good. That's real good. So I need you to be my assistant. You're gonna have to be real brave and trust me, okay?"

"Yes sir," James said.

John tried hard not to let the orderly hear him sit on the bed. He was going to fall if he didn't.

John instructed James how to use the needle. He wanted him to plunge it right into the beefy part of the man's thigh. James was scared to death but willing. The orderly fidgeted and Gage made up his mind. He stepped up to the orderly, keeping as still as he could and put the gun to the man's head.

"Don't move. I will shoot you before you can harm him." For effect, John pressed the gun harder into the back of the man's neck aiming upward.

James's needle found its mark and within seconds the huge man dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"We did it!" James whispered in jubilation only to look up as John joined the orderly on the floor.

"Get up! Get up!" James yelled. "I can't get Kara out of here all by myself. Please …" Tears fell on John.

John gripped the bed rails and pulled himself up leaving blood hand prints on the cold metal. He holstered the gun and stumbled out into the empty hall with James to the room Kara hid in. Kara took his one clean hand and once again they approached the metal door. A light bell rang and chairs scraped as footsteps approached the corridor. Lunch it seemed was over.

The door might as well have been a million miles away. He had no fight left in him. With one last burst of adrenaline he picked Kara up just in time and flung her inside a room on the opposite wall, James rolling to the floor in a heap behind him. The gun was out faster than Quick- Draw-McGraw sweeping inside. There was no one. Gage reached up and locked the door panting, his hand over his chest. He seized a towel from a rack in the corner and shoved it in the jacket trying to staunch the blood.

An alarm system suddenly blared throughout the building. They'd been found out! Frantic voices filled the hallways.

"I'm-I'm so sorry," Gage cried as Kara flung herself into his arms. James slid to the floor beside him. No one dared hardly breath. Well, for Gage that wasn't hard. He forced himself to keep breathing. His hand slid into the jacket. Air escaped the wound. Without help, he was done for.

XXXX

Undercover police dressed as dockworkers heard the alarm and mistook it for their raid being found out. Expecting the criminals to come pouring from the building to escape any second, they called in the tactical squads who surrounded the place.

XXXX

Doors banged open and closed. Gage looked up. There were no windows in this room. Small, numbered drawers lined the wall and he realized they were leaning on an autopsy table. The clanging and banging continued with shouts of 'nothing here' or 'where the hell are they?' echoing throughout the place.

Thinking fast and needing both hands to help himself up, Gage stopped trying to stem the flow of blood. He flung open three of the drawers. One was _occupied_. He slammed it shut with a shudder and found another empty one.

"Look!" he said with false excitement, swallowing his revulsion at what he was about to do. "A hiding place! A really good hiding place!"

The kids scrambled in relief into their _hiding places._

"It's cold," complained Kara.

"Yeah, but we can pretend we're camping outdoors in a tent and have a contest who can be the quietest and the winner gets a really cool campfire and camp out in the mountains…"

Gage slid the drawers closed. Kara whimpered a bit but quieted herself.

"I'll be right here," Gage whispered, closing Jame's door and then his own. _For a little while longer…_

The trouble was, he _knew_ what the drawer was. It wasn't a hiding place at all. Well, maybe for dead people. Claustrophobia pinched all his senses. It was blacker than black. His eyes opened wider and wider as if that would help but it only made him dizzy and the chill sent him to shivering so badly he was afraid he'd bang his knees against the metal and get them caught. The kids weren't tall enough to feel the metal head holder. John was forced to place his neck onto the cold stainless steel that held his head up but cut blood flow somewhat. Warmth filled the rectangular shallow pan beneath him. Soon it would be drenched with blood.

The gun was warm against his skin when it had been so cold out in his hand. He tried to stay awake. If anyone found them out he would try to shoot them so the kids could get away.

John had thought to unlock the door so no one would find it odd that it was locked from the inside and no one was there. The door was opened, the sound of a light switch flicking and a damn it! later and the door closed and John breathed again.

He whispered to the kids.

"You did good. You both get two points. I think you're both gonna win the camp out in the mountains."

Trust a kid to give a small 'yay' even in these darkest of times. It felt wrong to lie to them. But maybe if they lived their parents would honor his words and take them to the mountains.

He hoped they'd remember him.

The cold seeped into his bones, into his very veins. The paramedic part of him tried to speak to the scared kid inside him. _The cold is actually good. It'll slow your vitals. Buy you time._ But the paramedic part of him that talked as a paramedic to a paramedic knew his time was up. He was going into shock and if the kids had to stay in here much longer they would succumb to hypothermia too.

XXXX

The building dissolved into chaos as sirens screamed outside. It was every man for himself. Nurses and orderlies pushed each other in the halls. The person being prepped to receive Gage's kidneys was left to die on the table. Through it all, Dr. R. remained calm.

Four large men and a woman surrounded the doctor as he was led to a room where a large cabinet was pulled from the wall leading to a trap door. A short tunnel led to a boat docked at pier seven where he would leave anonymously, his flunkies taking the fall as he took a short vacation before setting up shop elsewhere. It was the cost of doing business and he found good help was not hard to find given the right pay.

S.W.A.T. members perched on nearby roofs as FBI swarmed inside the building quickly rounding up unarmed orderlies and nurses and other doctors. Harder to capture were those who were armed who guarded certain rooms and offices but within a half hour the building was deemed secure enough to start allowing medical personnel to enter escorted by armed police.

Once the scale of the operation was revealed, Rampart and St. Francis sent teams of nurses and doctors to assist. Ambulances stood ready.

Cap directed the firemen. It was not a situation he was used to. The police identified areas where victims were found and in all they counted thirty-one persons, four of them minors.

Roy found triage near impossible. Two patients in one surgical suite looked to be mid-way through surgery when completely abandoned. It was impossible at this time to figure out who was the donor and who was the recipient. They were both alive. Another room revealed a young woman cut open but nothing was taken out as yet as far as Roy could tell. There was no other person in the room. Had they died? Had a police officer already taken them out of here?

Two teenage girls sobbed into two teen boys chests as they were let out of a room where a T.V. hung in the corner and cards and games sat perched on tables untouched.

Brice gathered them into a corner and started asking them questions while police kept watch on everyone. It was still largely unclear if any criminals hid amongst the victims. After listening to the teens, Brice took one of the young men by the arm and had him lay on a gurney, something the teen seemed scared to death to do. One of the young women held his hand while Brice inspected a wound in his abdomen. When Brice was finished taking vitals, he patted the young man on the arm and told him everything would be alright.

"Suspect an improperly closed exploratory surgery incision and by the amount of tenderness and fever present possible infection of the wound," Brice said grimly in a hushed tone.

Roy nodded and Mike set up the biophone and quietly called in the boy's vitals so as not to upset him further.

Now that they'd been saved the teen who seemed to have held it together in front of the others broke. "Am I gonna die? What did they do to me!"

"You're gonna be okay, kid. You're safe now," Chet soothed as Brice poured antiseptic over the wound and re-bandaged it. Brice prepped the IV Rampart ordered and the teen went ballistic.

"No way, you're not gonna stick me with that. Last time they did that I woke up and … and … they did something …"

The kid's fever-bright eyes stared up resolutely. One of the girls stepped up and spoke to Brice.

"I overheard a nurse tell another nurse that they couldn't use Brad's organs. They stopped checking his wounds and said something about getting rid of him. We've all had that surgery and someone's come in and cleaned the wounds and forced meds on us but not Brad … We all got better but he's not…"

Roy prayed for the doctors and nurses to get here. Marco, Chet and Stoker were doing all they could. There were just too many victims. He stood hunched over one surgical patient while Bellingham attended to the other. Neither man could do anything but adjust IV drips and make sure the artificial airways held until the doctors got there. And still no word on Johnny Gage.

The alarms continued to wail pounding into everyone's head until mercifully Chet found the main switch and killed it. No one said a word for almost a minute. Desoto was losing his patient. The woman's jaundiced skin went from yellow to green as he frantically followed doctor's orders on the biophone. He'd donned a surgical mask but could barely breath through it in anxiety. The woman flat lined. The defibrillator did nothing as Roy tried again and again. His mind didn't like his thoughts rooting for one victim over another but he couldn't help but hope it was the sick person dying and not the otherwise healthy donor.

Doctors arrived as Roy was about to re-shock but one quick look into the woman's open stomach cavity and the doctor called time of death. Roy slumped to the floor momentarily. It was surreal. He gathered his wits and left the surgical suite looking at faces for his partner. He shivered as doctors from St. Francis examined all of the teens and gathered the mobile patients together into another room under the watchful eyes of officers. Roy offered his hands wherever they were called for.

Ambulances screamed away to return to pick up yet more victims. The task was grim as some victims were found harvested of their kidney but kept alive until someone needed a liver or heart or their other kidney.

No one was allowed to go anywhere alone. Roy found a wastebasket to make use of. He threw up the coffee he drank at the fairgrounds.

"So I'm not the only one?" Stoker whispered, leaning on a wall, wiping a paper towel across his face.

"Nope, I've treated two fainting cops and they're not rookies," Roy replied.

Officers swarmed the corridors still and triage was under control. Chet and Marco were pale helping to carry a cloth-covered gurney to the waiting coroner's car outside. It was all too much.

Roy and Mike were told to get a breather now that chaos was dying down. Cap felt like dying inside as he dismissed them for a few minutes. His youngest man hadn't been found.

A police officer gave Mike and Roy a little space as he followed them down the hall to the door where unbeknownst to them, their friend had glimpsed fleeting freedom. Roy's knees buckled.

"Oh God, Mike. We didn't find 'im. We didn't find him…"

Mike couldn't swallow passed the lump in his throat. He just stood there with his hand on Roy's shoulder, the days catching up with them. When Roy found his footing he looked desperately around for a bathroom. He was going to be sick again.

Mike spied a sink in a small room to the left. That's all they needed. He didn't see the other features of the room. The police man was going to tell them they couldn't go in there because it hadn't been swept for evidence but Roy's stomach contents had other ideas and Mike barely got him to the small sink before he heaved again. Roy stood gasping, tears falling down into the sink as he slid to the floor again. It was all just too grotesque to think about. The open bodies, the teens with surgical scars from god knows what.

At first Mike thought the plumbing was protesting the solids trying to make their way down the drain as he turned on the tap and handed Roy a towel only to discover it had blood on it. A lot of blood. Which was out of the ordinary since the rest of the place was spotless.

BANG!

Mike stared at the pipes. They were silent.

CLANG!

Mike yelled as Roy spun around and the cop flew into the room gun drawn as one of the drawers on the right side wall started to open very slowly and a tiny hand snaked out.

It was all Mike could so to stay on his feet. The gun, the morgue drawer opening and two little eyes starting at him from the darkened interior sent his world spinning.

"You're a fireman!" came a tiny voice. And another drawer slid open, another set of hands appeared as a little boy rolled over and sat up.

"And that's a policeman! Johnny was right. We're saved!" The jubilant kids couldn't figure out why the fireman and the policeman all stood there for a full minute, mouths open wide looking like they were gonna hurl.

"Yeah, but it looks like Johnny won. Now we won't get to go on that campout in the mountains…"

"Johnny? You guys know Johnny? Johnny Gage?" Roy found his voice first and the cop gaped, his gun still drawn but he helped Mike get the kids out of the meat lockers as they were referred to in their circle.

"Yes, he saved us. He's right here. He's hurt real bad but he won the quiet contest."

Mike wrapped his turnout coat around both shivering kids. Roy got up and opened the drawer the kids indicated. He pulled so hard in his haste that it slid all the way open revealing John's whole body. Roy blinked the tears out of his eyes and put his hand against the cold skin of John's neck. At first he could feel nothing. His heart sunk until, so slowly. _Lub-dub … lub-dub … nothing. Lub-dub … lub … dub … nothing._

"He's alive! Get a doctor in here now!"

John wasn't getting enough air. Roy tilted his head back and started artificial respiration. He continued pinching John's nose despite the awful gurgles that sounded in Gage's chest with every breath. His one hand rested on John's chest for a moment. His left side rose with each breath while there were no breath sounds in the right. Had they taken his lung?

The cop looked about to argue that he couldn't leave them alone because there could be suspects still at large but he sped off down the hall and returned in record time with Dr. Brackett and Nurse McCall. Chet and Marco followed and each took a child and held them tightly until Dr. Early finished with a more critical patient. Bellingham examined the kids as they sat on Chet and Marco's laps. Cap sent an HT to Roy and Stoker and ordered men to ferry whatever equipment Brackett called for to the morgue.

Mike ripped open emergency blankets as Brackett ordered them to get John out of the drawer now. Mike laid the blankets on a gurney that appeared in the doorway, glad they never asked him to place John on the slab. There was cooling blood in the pan John lay in for however long but now he barely bled. Dixie cut not one but two sets of clothing away from John's body with the emergency scissors. The layers had likely saved him from freezing to death. The gun fell from John's slackened hand, still cocked.

It was nearly certain that John couldn't hear any of them but Brackett never stopped Roy from talking to him. Warmed IV fluids would have been ideal but weren't available yet. Roy started an IV in John's ankle as instructed while Brackett started one in each arm after struggling to get a vein. Dixie cleaned and bandaged the wound, leaving a hole in the gauze through which a chest tube was inserted. Roy heard the sickening pop of the tube coming to rest in John's chest cavity. Immediately the wheezing breathlessness stopped.

John's blue-lined lips moved slightly under the oxygen mask. His brown eyes opened half-mast. Roy looked down on him.

"N-not … heaven then?" John grinned past the blood dribbling from the side of his mouth and pooling under the mask and it was a truly grotesque thing to behold with his sallow skin and proximity to the morgue drawer he'd just been plucked from. But it was the most beautiful thing Roy had ever seen.

"Do I look like a Playboy Bunny to you?" Desoto asked trying and failing to sound insulted.

"No, you look like crap though," John said.

"You're not exactly parade material yourself, Junior," Roy told him, clasping his hand tightly.

"Well, the saints _were_ marchin' in, I just didn't feel like going with 'em yet," Gage said, his voice losing volume as his blood pressure bottomed out.

Roy looked at Bracket in panic as the doctor shot drugs into the young paramedics already overtaxed system. The blood pressure picked up somewhat but Gage didn't awaken again. It was the _yet _part in John's statement about not feeling like going with the saints that almost broke him.

"Okay, let's move people!" Brackett shouted as the ambulance attendants stepped forward. Stoker and Cap politely waved them off. They would carry their own man.

Dixie hung the IV's on the gurney's pole as Roy and Brackett wrapped the young man in thermal blankets. Stoker tucked John's feet in after removing the shoes that clearly did not belong to the paramedic. The police that converged on the room bagged the bloody uniform, gun and boots.

Roy rode with Dixie and Brackett. John's hand squeezed his and his Adams apple bobbed a few times but he was out. Shock set in and Brackett struggled to stabilize him for immediate surgery. Still Roy hung on to John's hand and spoke to him of better times.


	6. Chapter 6

John drifted in and out of consciousness. The adrenaline and fear for the kids diminished now. Roy was there. He'd know what to do for the kids. His prayer from when he lay in the drawer waiting to be murdered was granted too. He got to hear his friend's voices again. Stoker, Cap, Lopez and even Chet. They'd been there. He felt detached from his body but could still feel Roy's hand clasped on to his. Everything and nothing was okay. He tried so hard to keep his eyes open but the fight was lost almost before it began.

John's gurney bypassed the E.R. straight to the O.R. Brackett passed on his patient to the waiting O.R. staff who met them in the entrance while he went to scrub up to assist. No one knew what they would find … or wouldn't find in John's body.

"Hang in there, Junior. I need you. Besides, you owe some kids a trip up into the mountains according to them and that's one story I need to hear … Fight, okay? Please … don't go anywhere. I'll be right here when you wake up."

It was another hour before the other guys from fifty-one surrounded Dixie's desk. The warehouse was empty save for forensic investigators and police who would keep the place cordoned off. St. Francis split the victims with Rampart and the E.R. was frantic with the usual emergencies and added burden of the raid.

Fifty-one was stood down while guys were pulled from other shifts and stations to cover the rest of the shift. That would not be an easy task as several firemen went home sick after the raid.

Dixie took Roy by the arm and he followed her blindly as did Cap, Mike, Marco and Chet. As tired as she was, Dixie poured coffee for all of them and took a few minutes to sip a bit herself in the doctor's lounge.

"What happened to your shoes, Ms. McCall?" Asked Mike causing all heads to turn to the pretty nurse's stocking feet.

"I had to throw them out before getting into the ambulance back at the warehouse," was all she said in reply and no one needed to ask further questions. She opened a small cupboard under a seat by the window and took out a perfectly white pair of size sevens and put them on. As if the new shoes gave her a second wind, she placed her hand on Roy's shoulder and told them she'd come get them when there was word on John. She disappeared into the hall to go back to work.

"She's amazing," Chet said respectfully. Everyone nodded.

XXXX

"I don't have to tell you that this patient is not an ideal surgery candidate, Kel," Dr. Prete, the anesthesiologist said sadly. Ideally I'd have liked to have an hour for some blood transfusions to stabilize him a bit more. It's gonna be a rough one."

Kel hung a second bag of blood as the chief thoracic surgeon looked at x-rays that were dropped off. The man blew out a huge sigh of guarded relief.

"Kid's missing a spleen from a previous surgery but nothing else," he mused. "I didn't think he'd been harvested because his ribs weren't broken. His right lung's blown though, we're gonna have to go in and repair and I'd like to inspect his liver. This new incision indicates some sort of procedure." Dr. Horvath's fingers followed gouge marks in Gage's ribs under the wound.

Kel studied the x-rays while the anesthesiologist took constant vitals readings and started Gage on a ventilator.

"We've got a lot of air and blood in the cavity too," Brackett noted grimly.

"We're ready gentlemen," announced Prete. "I've given him the lightest dose of anesthetic possible. Let's try to get in and out before his pressure bottoms out on us again."

Brackett clamped back the skin around the wound while Horvath made the incision a bit larger.

"Son of a … Kel, look at this," Horvath said holding tiny forceps tightly in his fingers. Kel peered down and looked over his shoulder incredulously from the wound to the x-rays. Hiding behind Gage's right ribs was the scalpel he'd been stabbed with.

Horvath placed his hand on Gage's shoulder for leverage and ordered a nurse to irrigate as he gently but firmly pulled the offending foreign object from his patient's chest.

"Suction," Horvath called. The blood was pumping from Gage's body faster than they could put it back in. "Clamp. We've got a bleeder." Horvath plopped the scalpel down as Brackett clamped off the internal damage as best as he could while a nurse tried to keep the area clear so they could see. Horvath carefully sutured damaged tissue and finally they could turn to the lung.

"I'm surprised it's not Swiss cheese," Horvath said quietly. "If that scalpel hadn't fetched up on his ribs, he'd have died within minutes of being stabbed. As it is we have two clear punctures, I'm repairing and we'll inflate while he's under and give it a few minutes to see if it holds."

The thoracic surgeon worked meticulously repairing the lung. The ventilator was put on manual while Kel gently squeezed a bulb attached to the trach tube. He held his own breath unconsciously as Gage's right lung followed his left sluggishly. The lung collapsed upon the first several breaths and was gently re-inflated but at last it held air and the chest tube continued to suction away to give it a break.

"We done here gentlemen? I'm good and all but, his pressure's dropping." Prete said, trying to sound jovial.

Horvath trimmed away jagged skin flanking the wound and made smooth edges to piece together to minimize scarring. It would also help against infection or this extra care would have been foregone in favor of buying time.

Prete turned off the anesthetic gas and replaced the mask over the ventilator with a regular oxygen flow. John's pressure climbed slightly once he was wheeled to recovery. All three doctors and the able surgical nurses were exhausted and amazed that the young man held on. The next twenty-four hours would tell the tale.

"I'm on-call tonight, Kel, if there's complications, call me," Horvath said, shaking hands and complimenting Prete and Brackett.

"Thanks for coming in on such short notice."

"Anytime. And I know he's special to you. I hope he makes it."

Kel sat down beside John in the recovery room for a few minutes where a nurse reattached all of his monitors and made notes in his chart.

"You had us scared for awhile, kid," Bracett told the sleeping young man. Kel couldn't shake the horrors of what he saw today let alone think of what Johnny must have gone through there. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a coffee cup with my name on it and you have some very worried hose jockeys downstairs that I need to talk to."

XXXX

The tiny doctor's lounge was standing room only, except everyone was too tired to stand so each chair was taken as well as most floor space. Joanne, Cap's wife Emily and Stoker's wife, Beth were all gathered with the men of fifty-one. Police who were at Rampart taking statements from victims came and went for coffee and to ask about the brave young paramedic in surgery. News spread of how he saved James and Kara.

Kel took one look in the small room and took a key from his pocket, stepping down the hall to unlock the bereavement room which was larger and had couches and a bigger coffee maker. A candy striper offered to make coffee while Kel went to get Johnny's friends.

John's shift mates followed Kel nervously down the hall. Kel was careful to tell them all quickly that John was alive but they needed to hear everything. Dixie slipped inside just as the door was about to close.

"John fought very hard through the surgery. We've repaired his right lung and tied off some bleeders from a stab wound. We found a scalpel inside his chest under his right ribs," Kel began, his hand going to his own chest unconsciously. Everyone winced in empathy for their friend upstairs.

Dixie sat down hard. "We've got the two kids he saved here for observation. They told me that Johnny was stabbed quite a long time before the raid. How he went on the way he did getting those kids to a hiding spot … I'll never know. And you know what? John had them so convinced it was a cool place to hide, they'll never know where they were."

Roy nodded. It was just like John to go above and beyond even knowing he probably wouldn't make it out himself, knowing that with every step he took, he did more damage.

"He's got a hard road in front of him. This is going to leave him very weak for a long time. The next twenty-four hours are critical. His lungs are being monitored. We're going to allow visitors tomorrow. Everyone will be asked to wear a mask and gown because John can't afford any germs right now. There is fluid in his lungs. We were able to drain some off during surgery but if it builds back up, pneumonia could be a real threat and John just isn't strong enough to fight that off."

Brackett looked around at the concerned faces knowing that John had a lot to come back to. He may not have family as such but he'd been adopted into fifty-one and their extended families. If he could fight through the night and tomorrow, there would be many hands to help him after that.

XXXX

April Seaquest bided her time. Dr. R. had taken pity on her and let her escape through the tunnels leading to the docks. She reported for work to Rampart with a mission. She was careful not to accept a shift in the E.R. this night. Too many familiar faces. Three of them in particular were to be eliminated for they had seen Dr. R while the rest of the victims had not.

Evening dawned as Seaquest did her rounds in the pediatric ward. She neglected one specific room in which a little girl and boy rested, refusing to be separated despite not knowing each other before they'd been plucked from the fairgrounds. A strong bond existed between them now. They'd been prisoners. They were survivors. Finally not able to avoid the room altogether April used the dim light of evening to plunk apple-juice down on their bed table before leaving hopefully without letting the kids see her face.

Kara shivered, her eyes huge.

"James, that nice nurse downstairs, Miss Dixie told us we'd be safe here."

"We will Kara. My mom's with my dad up in the cardiac ICU, that means heart unit. My sister said his heart broke when they found out someone stole me. But he's gonna be alright. My mom says she owes Johnny a hug for saving dad too."

"I know and _my_ mom's coming back after she gets something to eat in the cafeteria but … James … that nurse that brought the apple juice, I think it was Ms. S. from…"

James got up and quickly poured the apple juice down the drain of the little sink.

"Remember we got sick from the apple juice there … If she comes back pretend you drank it."

Kara's eyes welled up with tears. "I don't wanna go back there, James!" Her little hands reached for the call button.

"NO! Don't touch that. She might come to answer it. We have to get out of here ourselves. I know the way to dad's ward. My mom brought me to see him this afternoon. We have to go there."

James took Kara's hand just like Johnny did earlier and he peaked his head around the door. The other children in the ward were sleeping but the nurses were told to let Kara and James adjust to the hospital setting on their own and not to impose bed times. They'd napped during the evening and now at midnight were wide awake.

XXXX

Dr. Brackett lost his fight to make Roy go home. Roy knew John wouldn't wake tonight, maybe not even tomorrow but he had to be there. Roy slept in an upholstered chair in a small room off the ICU. Nightmares plagued him as victim's faces wove in and out of his thoughts.

XXXX

Kara and James slipped by the desk on the pediatric ward. It was empty. Nurses were hurrying in and out of rooms very upset about something and didn't notice them as the elevator doors closed.

"James, is this the right place? I don't see your mom," Kara asked fearfully when the elevator doors opened on a different floor.

"No … this isn't right, but it's on this floor. It's called CICU … come on, we have to get there before Ms. S. finds out we're gone."

The children's voices meshed with Roy's nightmares from what he'd been told by police and heard from the kids they found with John. They were trying to escape. Again and again and again. Forever. But no … that wasn't right. The kids were downstairs, safe and sound as they could be and John was here; not two rooms away from him, out of danger, at least from sick psychopaths. Right?

The little voices persisted until Roy opened his eyes only to find he hadn't woken up at all. In front of him in the hall were the very two children he and Stoker found in the body drawers. Roy rubbed his eyes and opened them again. They were still there. Sighing he got up to confront his dream. Before he could take one step the children barreled into him in a literal _pinch me_ moment and crying for help as quietly as they could, looking terrified as a nurse entered the ICU.

"It's Ms. S.!" sobbed James standing on his tiptoes looking at a monitor through a window showing a dark haired patient in the bed she stood over.

Roy tried to calm the distraught children who were babbling almost incoherently.

"It's okay, she's a nurse, and she works here. She's checking on him," Roy assured the kids but then he realized she wasn't wearing the required mask. Annoyed beyond belief, Roy had no choice but to take the kids with him into the small outer area of the ICU to speak to the head nurse to put in a complaint against the same nurse who'd taken his blood erroneously a few days ago. Roy stayed outside with the kids while the nurse went to deal with Seaquest.

"Ms. Seaquest, what are you doing here? You're suspended from working the ICU until you take the required refresher courses," said the head nurse shrilly. "Now get out of here and report to Dr. Horvath immediately. You'll be lucky to keep your job this time."

"Yes, Ms. Jenner," April said obediently.

The young nurse pushed by Roy and the children recoiled and gasped. She looked down at them, wondering how much the visitors heard.

"Now children, what are you doing up here at such a late hour? James, your father won't get better unless he gets his rest, besides his ward is down the hall. You don't want him to get worse do you? Now let's get you darlings back to bed. You need your rest. Don't bother the nice man."

The way April looked at James and indicated that his dad would die if he didn't go back to his ward sent shivers up the young boy's spine.

"Hey, now that's no way to talk to kids!" Roy hissed, desperately trying to keep his voice down so as not to disturb the critically ill patients. April seemed to recognize him for the first time.

"Oh, Mr. Desoto, so nice to see you again. How's your hand?" She babbled while watching Nurse Jenner take Johnny's vitals. She had exactly four minutes left to get out of there before those monitors that she hadn't had time to fiddle with would go off and alert them that something was very wrong.

"Don't give me the how are you routine. You're not dumb, just careless. I'm going to speak to Dr. Brackett about you in the morning and in the meantime you're not taking these kids anywhere."

"I don't want my dad to die!" wailed James.

"I don't want her to take us back to that place! She was mean there!" cried Kara.

Everything slammed together at once in Roy's brain. April's hand never left her pocket. Roy grabbed her roughly and spun her around, ripping her arm up causing a flare of pain in his still bandaged and stitched palm. An empty syringe fell to the floor, the glass shattering at her feet.

"Unhand me!" April screamed.

Roy dragged Seaquest back into Johnny's room. "Shut off his IV! Right now! He's been poisoned!"

Nurse Jenner was too slow to react to the unusual demands. Roy held tight to the kicking and furious Seaquest. He couldn't gain the steadiness it would take to unhook the I.V. properly. Wincing, he pulled the needle from his partner's arm, tape and all. Blood squirted over the white linens pulling Jenner out of her surprised stupor. She finally clamped a cloth down hard on the young paramedic's arm. She reached for the button beside his bed. Nothing happened when she pushed it. She pulled and the button came up, wire cut.

Roy took a second too long in trying to get a glimpse at his partner to see if he'd already been compromised. A sharp pain shot up his bicep and this time April didn't even try to conceal the second syringe she used. She dropped it to the floor and continued kicking and squirming in his arms.

A young male nurse in the hall who had no idea what was happening dropped his clipboard and poised to attack Roy as April played the part of a damsel in distress.

"Help me! Please! He's crazy, he's attacking the patients and staff!"

Roy tightened his arm around April's neck. His thoughts came slowly now but he knew if the guy attacked it would be all over for John. His new defensive and offensive position stopped the male nurse in his tracks.

"Look buddy, whatever your beef is, you've got to let the nurse go. We can't help your friend if you don't let us do our job," the male nurse soothed, completely fooled by the now sobbing April.

"Noooo, you … you don't understand. She's … uh … she's…"

Roy's grip was loosening on April as he struggled to keep his arm around her neck. The room was spinning and he was losing control fast but he fought to keep his thoughts coherent. He was the only one who could explain this before John died.

The male nurse kept asking Roy how much he'd had to drink or what drugs he was on and asking Roy to please let the nurse go before drastic measures were taken. All the while he got closer and closer to the struggling pair.

"Drugs … yes! She …" He tried to nod down at the shorter person still in his grasp. "She drugged … she … uh."

But whatever April gave him was powerful stuff. Roy could hear his own heart beat, could feel it pounding against his shirt like it was trying to get out and run away. The pain was excruciating. His breaths came so fast it was near impossible to form words.

John's heart monitors went from slow and sluggish to through the roof in seconds and April stepped up her performance as Roy slipped further and further.

"Help me, he's hurting me!" complained April to the male nurse. "The patient will die if you don't do something!"

The male nurse took slow, deliberate steps toward Roy; his arms up in a placating way but Roy knew this was it. He couldn't fight but the blaring of his friend's heart monitors gave him a new-found strength.

"James, Kara, there's a nurse's desk right outside this door," Roy panted to the children who were cowering in the doorway. "Go press the big button on the left with the blue light on it, then hit all the other numbers. Help will come." Roy's stitched hand was on fire with pain as April's knee came up, clocking him between the legs. Roy's breaths hitched but he remained upright praying that the kids would listen to him.

_A few more seconds please God, that's all I need. Please save him._

Roy let out a sigh of relief as a recorded voice called out, "code blue room 115, code blue room 114, code blue room 113, code blue room 112. A stampede of footsteps headed their way as the hallway was lit up with the flashing blue light of death over each door in the ICU.

James and Kara tried to explain to the flood of concerned staff that Ms. S. was a bad nurse. The young man in the bed was dying but no one listens to what comes from the mouths of babes, thought April with some satisfaction as Roy slumped to the floor unconscious amidst the chaos.

April stroked the ego of the young male nurse, thanking him for his _help_. Completely fooled, he straightened his shoulders, asked her if she was alright and assured her that he would see to the downed man.

"I'll take the poor children back to the Pediatric unit," April whispered stoically wiping her alligator tears. Ms. Jenner was occupied with the huge team of doctors who'd rushed the area in mass confusion, finding only one code blue. But if they bothered to look on the floor instead of stepping over the man April claimed was drunk, they would know there were two code blues on this floor now.

April grabbed Kara and James, smiling sardonically down at them and reminding James that his father, Roy and Johnny would be dead if he didn't do exactly what she said.

XXXX

Mike Stoker couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned until Beth turned on the light.

"Wanna talk about it, Mike?"

"Nah, can't sleep. This weeks been so …"

"You're worried about Johnny?"

"Yeah. I know I can't do anything for him right now but Roy's gotta be beat too and he's all alone up at Rampart waiting for John to wake up."

"Well, why don't I pack up some sandwiches and you can head over there for a few hours and see if you can get Roy to eat something? When I talked to Joanne earlier she said Roy hasn't eaten all day and he's still on meds for his hand that are ideally taken with food."

"Have I told you how much I love you, Mrs. Stoker?" Mike said with a grin. Turning to his dog he said, "just because the bad guys are caught doesn't mean you get to loll around." Mike patted the dog affectionately.

The huge rottweiler lumbered over to sit beside Beth's legs near the refrigerator as if he understood every word Mike said.

If only all the bad guys _were_ caught.

XXXX

Mike stepped into the stairwell at Rampart to a very unusual sight.

_A young nurse with a pair of children in hospital pajamas on the stairs at this time of night?_

"Mike! Help us!" screamed Kara.

Mike's overtired mind was quick to wake as he recognized the two children from the morgue. He, Chet and Marco had spent a fair amount of time with the kids in the morgue and at the hospital.

"Hey, guys, what's going on?" Stoker asked, blocking their path down the stairs.

"I was taking the children to the late cafeteria to get ice cream, seems they couldn't sleep after the trauma of today. We were just playing monster on the way down and they got scared is all. Thank you for your concern," April said silkily.

"No, Mike, please, she works for the bad man!"

April was done trying to play around. She flung Kara and James at Mike knowing this man wasn't buying anything she said. She thought she'd seen him at the compound on her way down the hall to meet up with Dr. R. but with the turnouts firemen pretty much all looked the same. Nope, it _was_ him.

Mike grabbed April and spun her around. He got the same knee to the groin Desoto got but he wasn't drugged and didn't have a hurt hand and he was beyond not hitting a lady. He _could_ hit a murderer! Mike backhanded the woman as her knee came up again and she fell to the ground. Mike picked her up in a fireman's carry and tried to calm the kids.

"It's over, I promise. And you did it! Look, she's not gonna get away. You're okay," Mike panted heavily from the knee to the groin.

Kara and James hung off Mike's shirt as they spilled from the stairwell into the E.R.

"Ms. McCall, please get security. This woman was trying to kidnap these kids."

Dixie's eyes grew wide as she recognized the nurse slung over Mike's shoulders. April Seaquest had been fired that very afternoon for incompetence but news obviously traveled too slowly in the huge hospital. She'd walked the halls free as a bird.

Mike unceremoniously flung April onto a gurney while Dixie put her in leg and arm restraints and locked her in a room.

"Have security paged and call the police to the Emergency department stat," Dixie said into the phone as Kara clung to her waist.

Mike picked James up and at first the boy plopped his head onto the fireman's shoulder and cried. His gaze never left the door where the bad nurse was though.

"Hey, it's okay now. She's not getting away," Mike soothed.

"She already hurt Johnny and the fireman who rescued us with you," James said. "She put a needle in him and … I think he's dead. Johnny told me to put a needle in one of the bad guys and he never moved again. Did I kill him like Ms. S. killed Johnny?"

Mike tilted James' head back to get a better look at his face.

"James, this is very important. When did Ms. S. hurt Johnny and the other fireman?"

"Just before she told the nurse upstairs she'd take us back to our room."

Mike estimated about seven or eight minutes since he discovered the children in the stairwell. Dixie was obviously calculating time in her head too as she sped to find Dr. Brackett. Whatever the evil ex nurse injected into John and Roy, it was likely too late to counteract.

XXXX

Upstairs two lives hung in the balance but until Dr. Brackett ran in and saw Roy on the floor, no one knew that. Four crash carts stood sentry outside the door, scrambled for in a frenzy of unprecedented proportions.

Dr. Horvath raised John's bed and worked frantically on his patient. CPR was a last resort. Caving in John's healing lung with chest compressions would destroy his right lung but his heart was giving out, not fed enough oxygen for its erratic speed. His body just couldn't keep up.

Brackett shouted out frantic orders for Ativan after listening to Roy's heart. He shouldered the male nurse out of the way.

"He's just drunk and disorderly," the male nurse said with disgust evident in his tone.

"Has it escaped your attention that this man's heart is in arrhythmia tachycardia?"

"But the other nurse said he was just drunk, giving her a hard time over his friend here…"

"We'll discuss this later. Get me some Ativan now!"

Brackett administered the anti-arrhythmia drug at once. Roy was lifted onto a gurney and wheeled out of the room to give the code blue team a chance to work. He fit Roy with an oxygen mask to support his vital organs.

Horvath restarted John's IV with fresh tubing and bags and piggybacked Ativan. He stood at the ready with a charged defibrillator in case the Ativan worked too well too fast. The ventilator airflow was adjusted to provide the patient with more oxygen for the marathon his already weakened body was forced to run. John's chest rose and fell so rapidly Horvath ordered a nurse to put slight pressure on his chest with her hand to prevent his repaired lung from over inflating.

"He's triggering the vent too fast. Give him five cc's morphine to slow his breathing," Horvath ordered an intern who stared slack jawed at him.

"Morphine's side effect is a decrease or depression of respiration which is why we don't give it to head injury victims. In this case, it may save this young man's life."

The intern got the medicine ready and pushed the needle into Gage's fresh IV. Horvath backed off the force of the ventilator accordingly, carefully monitoring his patient's pulse the whole time. It was working. The nurse holding John's chest nodded in confirmation that the respiration evened out.

Horvath sighed in relief. "Have someone bring me a chair. I'm going to sit with him for awhile to make sure whatever she's given him doesn't reabsorb."

Out in the hallway glass crunched beneath Brackett's feet and he looked down at the broken syringe.

"How's he doing, Kel?" Horvath called from his patient's side.

"The Ativan has slowed his heart rate somewhat but he's still taking too much air."

"Give him five CC's morphine. It worked on his partner here," Horvath instructed.

Brackett had great respect for the thoracic surgeon and took his word. Roy wasn't in as much danger as Johnny because his body wasn't already fighting catastrophic injury but it wouldn't do his body any favors to be kept running at this pace either.

Brackett established an IV and pushed the morphine into the port at Roy's inner elbow. Within seconds the breathing quieted and the concentrated pain lines on his face diminished.

Nurse Jenner filled in John's charts as Brackett asked what the hell had happened. Jenner nodded shakily toward the gurney and told of how Roy had grabbed the nurse who had supposedly mistakenly reported for duty.

XXXX

Dix frowned as the police arrived but no security guards employed by Rampart reported. April was handcuffed as she came around, screaming her innocence.

By now the hospital was in chaos, all caused by one woman. The multiple code blues called in by the frantic children had diverted much needed equipment from other hospital wards, certain intercoms were malfunctioning and no one knew where the security guards were. Kara's mother was beside herself upstairs after having returned from the cafeteria to find her daughter and her roommate missing.

Police began to cordon off the hospital, no one in, no one out. Stoker sat on a gurney with a child on each knee as Dixie called up to the pediatric ward and to the CICU to inform Kara and James's parents that the children were safe … for real.

"How could you have let two small children out of your ward?" Dixie demanded of the ward nurse in pediatrics.

"Ms. McCall, we're really sorry but we had a real emergency up here. We have three children who were under orders for hourly neuro checks. They were doing well until an hour ago when we went to wake them and not one of them responded. We checked the charts for medication mistakes and every other cause and came up empty. We only now got them stabilized."

It was obvious to Dixie that Seaquest's reach was long this time.

The ward nurse was sniffling in misery and exhaustion as she explained the situation that was clearly out her control.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize. Look, have some blood drawn from each child and check for any non-prescribed drugs. Move those kids into pediatric ICU as a precaution and wait for further instructions," Dixie said calmly. "And listen, this is not your fault, you'll be filled in later but follow those instructions until told otherwise. Close the ward to visitors for the time being and enforce this on everyone but parents with I.D."

XXXX

April fumed on the gurney not answering any questions, demanding her lawyer. If Kara and James had just drank their apple juice, their voices would have been silenced forever and she could've slipped upstairs, killed John Gage and hopped a plane to Barbados and joined Dr. R. Now all three of the patients who'd seen Dr. R. were still alive. April knew her life wasn't worth a plugged nickel. Dr. R.'s arms were long and could easily reach into prison and have her eliminated. She'd be dead before trial.

XXXX

Kara and James's moms thanked Mike profusely and retreated to the private room the hospital provided with police guards.

Two officers stood outside the ICU room of John Gage and Roy Desoto. Roy was stable but Brackett didn't want to chance a relapse while the broken syringe was tested for its contents. News traveled between floors. The children under neuro check watch were starting to awaken from the drugs April gave them and were going to be okay. Joanne was on her way, called by Dixie.

XXXX

Roy woke as a nurse checked his vitals. Brackett sat in a chair between the beds looking exhausted.

"Johnny!" Roy shouted, sitting up and trying to leap out of bed. Brackett pushed him back down gently.

"He's gonna be okay, Roy. You got to him in time … again."

Roy controlled his breathing and stared over at his partner's pale face, determined to see for himself so Brackett helped him stand.

John registered pressure on his hand but there was fabric between his flesh and the other person's hand. Roy was holding his hand with his bandaged one.

"Johnny, it's me. I'm here. You're gonna be okay now."

_Why does Roy sound so tired? _John tried to open his eyes but they wouldn't cooperate. With nothing else to do but lay and listen John picked up conversation from somewhere far away as Roy grew quiet. _Sniffling? Is Roy crying? Roy doesn't cry …_

Snippets of conversation from the police outside the door drifted into John's consciousness as he tried to make sense of it all. Something about a seaquest and an alias and children.

John's eyes darted back and forth rapidly beneath his purple-rimmed lids. His hand found the needle in the crook of his arm. Roy gently placed his hand back down by his side and held it. Pain flared briefly in John's chest as the image of the scalpel stabbing into him flashed in his mind. His forehead wrinkled in confusion as his abdominal muscles contracted, reacting to the horror.

"That's it, Junior, come back to us," Roy coaxed. "It's gonna be okay."

But John needed to make Roy understand. It wasn't okay! Ms. S. was here. John's heart sped back up as the frustration of wanting to scream ate him.

_Roy … she's bad … save the kids!_

Even in his mostly unconscious state John put pieces together. Children were almost always brought into Rampart. If Ms. S. or Nurse Sea quest as she was known at Rampart wasn't caught she would have access to them. She'd kill them.

John's jaw unlocked and he tried to speak. His eyes flew open realizing he was on a ventilator.

"John! Shh, listen, it's okay. Everything's okay …" Roy tried to soothe but John struggled and writhed in pain and frustration as he continued to moan around the ventilator which he wasn't strong enough to be weaned from. He began frantically miming something. John and Roy worked together for years and somehow their silent language proved invaluable now. Within minutes Roy understood his partner's anxious pleas.

"Johnny, it's okay." Roy kept his hands on John's chest lightly so he wouldn't try to sit up again. He told him they knew all about the _double agent _as Gage had mimed so admirably.

John's hands shook as tears squeezed from his eyes. He mimed a small person and slightly smaller person.

"Kara and James are fine. They saved you just like you saved them," Roy told him. Roy knew his partner too well to take Brackett's advice that John would be out again in a minute. John couldn't and wouldn't sleep until he heard the whole story that no doubt his subconscious had picked up on somehow.

_You okay? _John mimed, taking in Roy's bandaged hand and looking at him in confusion as he stood there in a hospital gown trailing an IV pole.

"I'm okay," Roy promised.

The lines in John's forehead smoothed and sleep overtook him.

XXXX

Even though people poured into John's room last night without the mask and gown, the rule was enforced for the next two days. Better late than never. John slept for twenty-four hours, mostly medically induced to give his lungs a chance to rest and so he wouldn't fight the vent. Roy was moved from the ICU to a step down unit but barely left John's side anyway.

On the third day, John squeezed his eyes shut as Dr. Horvath removed the ventilator. Roy held his hand but images of another doctor rummaging around inside his open stomach as someone held a mask over his face while he screamed inside his head for someone to save him caused him to hold his breath.

"John, breathe for me … John you have to stop holding your breath. I know it hurts but it's imperative you have enough air to inflate your lungs on the last ventilation," Dr. Horvath said gently.

"Junior, open your eyes," Roy coaxed. "You're out of there. You've known Dr. Horvath for a long time and I'm right here."

Horvath held the tube in place until John started breathing again. John coughed as the tube came up but his breath hitched involuntarily in terror. The tube was already out of the lung, it was either get John to breathe now or sedate and re-ventilate.

Roy hated himself as he reached down to an unmarred place on John's sternum and rubbed his knuckles across it. John's eyes shot wide and he took a huge breath of pain in and gasped over and over as the tube cleared his teeth. Tears leaked from John's eyes as Roy's knuckles flattened to a soft palm that tried desperately to rub the pain away gently.

"I'm sorry … I'm sorry, Junior, but you had to breathe." Roy's eyes were filled with tears too as John clasped his hand and hung on for dear life. Horvath worked around Roy listening to John's lungs and heart.

"I don't wanna be there, Roy," John rasped through dry lips spattered with a bit of blood. "I keep telling myself I'm really saved … but last night I thought I heard her in my dreams … and she was really here and she hurt you … and the kids."

John missed a day in his reckoning from the induced coma but the rest was accurate sadly.

Roy held tight to John's hand as a Nurse cleaned his face and scrubbed away the tape marks from the vent. John fidgeted nervously as Horvath fitted him with a nasal cannula and adjusted the oxygen flow. Dr. Horvath left the two friends to talk, something he knew the young man needed more than anything.

"She's not gonna hurt you or anyone ever again. If you can believe it, Stoker caught her trying to take the kids out of Rampart," Roy informed John as he gently spooned some ice chips to his hurting friend.

"Wait a minute," John wheezed, holding up a finger in his groggy state as if he needed to demonstrate the time passage. "She told me she took your blood … She didn't …"

"She did take my blood by _accident_, Roy confirmed. I told Morton. Try not to talk too much, I snuck a peak at your throat and it's pretty raw." Roy slipped him a couple more ice chips when he opened his mouth.

"That's how I ended up there," John confessed. "You're right about me … always chasin' the nurses. She took my blood when it wasn't ordered when I came in for a breathing treatment after that refinery fire. She begged me not to tell Brackett because she'd only done it once and was afraid of losing her job because she was putting her brother through school because she was an orphan blah blah blah blah. I'm so stupid. Gullible just like Chet says. If I'd have told the truth maybe I could have …"

"Could've what, Johnny? Even if you _had _turned her over to Brackett she would have gotten a warning. Getting caught with me still made it too late to save you or those kids or others and if not for you, those kids would have died."

John's mouth was dry and the bag of blood that hung above his bed sickened him into silence. Roy's praise did nothing to quell his feeling of uselessness and gullibility.

"You're a hero, Johnny. You need to understand that. You did nothing wrong. Being a nice guy isn't a crime." Roy put his hand on John's shoulder and fished out some more ice chips, careful to make sure his partner didn't have any in his mouth when his eyes slid closed.

XXXX

Test results from the broken syringe confirmed that John and Roy were given high doses of Narcan which sped their hearts to nearly the breaking point.

While technically only allowed one visitor at a time, a very grateful Nurse Jenner allowed John's shift mates to visit together while Roy got some sleep in his own room.

"Now that's a better look for you, Chet," John joked tiredly. "You should wear a surgical mask over your mug all the time. Save us from the horror."

"You're just jealous 'cause I make this dress look good," Chet joked back doing a little swirl to emphasize his point as he held the surgical scrub gown out.

John took in his shift mate's eyes, all he could see from behind their masks. They all looked tired and haunted. He remembered praying so many times out of count to see them again or even hear their voices and he truly thought the last time he'd been granted that at the morgue would be his last.

"How're you feeling, Johnny?" Cap asked his voice muffled by the mask.

"I don't know," John said honestly. There was something nagging in the back of his mind.

_You won't end here today. You'll go on. In more ways than one. Someone has agreed to purchase …_ Dr. R.'s words played over and over again in his mind but he stopped them each time before they played out. The unexplainable terror if he let himself remember would consume him.

"I'm okay, Cap. You know me, nine lives …" he amended to sound more positive, to take that look of concern from his friend's eyes.

_What do you know? Blondes do have more fun…_

"You're like a cat in more ways than that, Gage," Chet teased again. "You'll probably have every pretty nurse in the joint wanting to look after you as usual …"

_Now you'll find out what you missed by not asking me out…_

"NO!" Gage shouted, his heart rate spiking alarmingly suddenly. "Get out! All of you! Get out now! You don't know me! You … just … get out!"

Chet's eyes were wide in confusion as Marco and Stoker led him from the room.

"You're tired. We'll let you get some rest. Chet didn't mean anything by it. He's just being a twit like usual. I'll talk to him if you want …" Cap offered, having no idea what set his youngest paramedic off.

John's hand covered his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose dissolving into tears that threatened to take his already fragile breath away.

"N-no, Cap. Please … Tell Chet 'm sorry. I just … I don't know … I can't remember … I-I don't want…"

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to leave," the nurse said as she paged Dr. Early.

John was trying to control his breathing when Early walked in. His eyes were swollen nearly shut with exhaustion and crying. Early offered to sit and talk but John declined. Early checked his vitals and made note of a slight fever and build up of fluids in his right lung. A new round of antibiotics was ordered and Early stood ready to put John out but the young paramedic's crying wore him out. Early watched in sympathy as he continued to heave small sobs even in sleep.

XXXX

Chet's eyes were glassy as he sat opposite Roy while his other shift mates and captain tried to figure out what happened.

"Don't beat yourself up, Chet. You didn't do anything you two don't normally do. You couldn't have known that would send him over the edge. The question is why," Stoker said.

Roy asked Chet to repeat everything he said to his partner word for word and by the time Chet did it, the mustached fireman's shoulders were slumped in shame and defeat. Roy repeated what Stoker said. Nothing Chet said was any different than any other day. Except this wasn't any other day.

"He hates me," Chet said despondently.

"That's impossible," Roy told him. "Johnny doesn't hate anyone. It's against what he was taught by his real parents when he was a boy. I mean sure he's hated people before but he doesn't hold onto it. He rants and gets it over with. He forgives … but this … this just isn't like Johnny. Even under the horrible circumstances, it just doesn't make sense."

Dr. Brackett knocked on Roy's door, stepping in past the officer who was guarding it.

"Mind telling me what has our boy so upset?" the doctor asked in a semi-non accusing tone.

Chet confessed to blowing it but Brackett agreed with the rest of the men. The abrupt change in John's personality was way out of character.

The men saw Roy growing tired too and so excused themselves. Marco invited Chet to dinner at Mama Lopez's to try to make him feel better.

"No, but thanks. I think I'll go on home and staple my mouth shut," Chet told Marco.

XXXX

Joanne went for coffee with Dixie to give Roy some time catch a nap. Instead Roy lay there cataloging John's injuries in his mind. Horvath had mentioned evidence of a liver biopsy from which John would fully recover, then there was the trauma to his chest cavity and lung and the three stitches on the inside of his mouth that John never talked about.

XXXX

John woke to find Roy sitting by his bed. The senior paramedic was unhooked from his IV and was wearing his own pajamas now.

"Can you tell them that I want a pair of those too? I feel naked here like this," John asked, flicking the collar of his thin hospital gown.

"How're you feelin' Johnny? Besides naked?" Roy added, smiling down at his very pale partner. A sheen of sweat dotted the young man's brow. Roy would let John talk about what happened with the guys when he was ready.

John's Adam's apple bobbed the same way it did when he was nervous or scared. Roy fed him a few ice chips, which he took gratefully, letting it melt on his parched tongue. His throat was raw and so were his nerves.

"Hurt all over," John confessed miserably.

Dr. Early was still on shift and he came up and examined John. There was still fluid on his right lung but no more than last night. His temperature remained a little on the high side. When John fell asleep again, Dr. Early asked to speak to Roy back in his room.

XXXX

"Roy, John's doing well, but we feel he's slipping and medically there's no good reason for it. He came off the vent well before we expected, he's oriented and even rebounded from the subsequent attack better than we could have hoped. This fever isn't responding to the antibiotics and we're worried about what happened with your shift mates yesterday."

"We're all worried but I don't know what to tell you. I didn't want to bring it up first because he seemed really upset about something Chet said."

"Roy there's no easy way to tell you this. I probably shouldn't even be telling you but if it'll help Johnny then I feel I should. Based on what Dr. Brackett filled me in on about what happened with Chet and Johnny, I have a theory."

"Go on," Roy said nervously.

"One of the teen males brought in from the raid was suffering from an infection from neglected wounds. He told us he'd been rejected for organ donations because he has a very rare blood type that makes him incompatible for most people so the market would be very low. They simply stopped wound care and were going to dispose of him. But before that, so as to at least get something from him, he said they gave him a drug that made him sleepy and unable to fight back or comprehend what he was doing clearly but he has vague recollections." Dr. Early cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Roy stared at the doctor, not liking where this conversation was going one bit but needing to hear what the man had to say if it would help Johnny.

"He thinks they used him … He thinks they harvested sperm." Dr. Early blew out a huge breath, not liking this awkward conversation any more than Roy.

"So Chet's remarks about Gage being like a cat and having nine lives and dating all sorts of nurses … Oh my god … no." Roy's mind took the leap to the horribly but fairly obvious.

"I'm afraid the police found an experimental cryogenics lab with several samples. We don't know whose they are but they're being kept as evidence so far. No one knows how widespread the practice was but it's felt they mostly dealt in organs. The forensics team has moved right into the building because there's too much evidence to bag and tag."

"That's not right," Roy said, his voice laced with anger. "The cryo lab should be destroyed and along with it everything they stole."

"I agree a hundred percent, Roy but in the meantime we need to help John. If he's been…"

XXXX

Roy sat once again in John's room listening to the steady rhythm of his heart monitors. John woke and refused juice and plain tea saying he didn't feel well enough to keep it down.

"The guys haven't been in again. Guess I deserve it," John said sadly.

"Don't you think that. I mean, yeah, I heard you and Chet had a rough time but he's called in twice a day to see how you are."

"Really?" Gage asked hopefully.

"Really," Roy confirmed. "Say the word and they'll be here in a minute."

"I feel like a jerk … It's just that … I don't know."

Roy took a deep breath. "It hit too close to home?"

"What does that mean?" Gage asked defensively.

"Nuthin,'" Roy said, hating that he was trying to get a rise out his friend even if it was to help him.

"Roy? … I have to tell you something. I'm not what everyone thinks I am. I mean I'm no saint … but I'm not … I don't just sleep with every woman I date. At all. I just …"

Roy let John go on even if he was going in circles. John's confessions weren't surprising to Roy at all. Sure, the kid could brag up there with the best of them but Roy had seen his hurt when he truly cared for someone who dumped him and he'd watched him run in the opposite direction when once in awhile wanting was better than having. He always believed that one day John would settle down despite the persona he put around.

John got tired fast with all the meds and healing he had to do. He blinked sleepily and Roy kept him talking, assured him that he believed him and steered him to talk about what happened to trigger the words with Chet.

"I don't drink much," John said suddenly.

"I know that, Junior."

"But you know those few times when things were really bad at work and when we lost B-Bruce?" John gulped. This was harder to speak of now from the other side of the fence.

"Yeah, we both got pretty wasted. Thank god for Joanne," Roy said.

"Yeah," John agreed whole-heartedly.

"Something happened at the … the place."

Roy sat up straighter, wanting to run and not hear the next words but needing to be there for his friend.

"They gave me something … Nurse Seaquest .., they called her Ms. S. there.

It felt like I was drunk, but different. I knew something was wrong. I knew I didn't want her to touch me … But I couldn't fight it. I tried to fight it but then … after awhile I didn't want to fight it. I let her … Oh god, Roy I let her do … I let her … She took …"

"You didn't _let_ her do anything. She assaulted you John. You were violated in the most personal way a person can be. She's at fault, and she's going to pay for it, I promise." Roy's voice shook with sincerity and he sat on the edge of John's bed while his young partner cried tears of humiliation and pain.

"Don't tell the guys … God, Roy this is so embarrassing …"

Roy wanted to rip April Seaquest's lungs out and feed them to the fish in the ocean because they weren't fit even for her boss's evil purposes. A nineteen year old lay somewhere downstairs in Rampart feeling the same way Johnny was feeling, and for what?

"I can't tell you how to feel, Junior. I can only tell you that you have nothing to be ashamed of. You had nothing to do with it. You were the victim."

"I didn't stop her from touching me. I couldn't even stop myself from responding. Why didn't I find a way to stop it?"

"You were drugged. You didn't know what you were doing."

"That's the thing, Roy, I must have … She got what she wanted! I …"

"Dr. Early said there were other victims of what you're describing. He said there's a new drug that induces complete compliance with side effects of muddied memories and loss of inhibitions. I repeat. You. Were. Drugged."

"Is it stupid that I feel …"

"Nothing's stupid."

John put his head back down on the pillows when Roy put his hand on his forehead. The coolness felt good against his headache.

John succumbed to sleep a short time later. Roy promised he'd be there when he woke up so he settled into the chair with a book.

"They might as well have given you two a double room," Joanne said quietly, taking a seat next to her husband. She took in John's face; his dark lashes in striking contrast to the pale skin. It wasn't long before Roy fell asleep too and the nurse from his floor tracked him down with his release papers.

XXXX

John's bed was raised into a reclining position two days later when Chet and Marco stopped by in uniform. John looked a little better. His fever broke during the night previous and he was trying to eat a bit of Jell-O, which he poked experimentally at with a plastic spoon.

John decided that he'd address the horrors of what happened to him straight out. He needed to concentrate on getting better and he couldn't do that with the threat of what the phantom would have to say about it all.

"Look, Chet, about the other day. I was tired and sore and I …"

"No, John, it's okay, I should have for once in my life just shut my big mouth. I was just trying to keep things light," Chet replied.

John closed his eyes and readied himself for his finest emotional eclipse ever.

"Well, it wasn't _all_ bad," he said smiling, but Chet noticed right off the hop that John's smile did not reach his eyes … or his heart and the bragging the two normally did didn't sound genuine.

"And how's that?" Chet asked, cringing inside. The mustached fireman had heard about the nineteen-year-old downstairs and about the experimental cryo lab at the compound but he said nothing.

"Even th-there the nurses couldn't stay away," John bragged and Chet watched as the young paramedic gave his all to keep his voice steady and his chin raised.

"Oh, really?" Chet asked, having no idea how to respond. On a usual day at Rampart, before this happened, John enjoyed pretty nurses paying extra attention to him.

John told Chet and Marco what happened, leaving out the details he'd confessed to Roy; details that told of the horror, the helplessness and the violation to make it sound like it like it was normal, like he wanted it. When he looked up he was met with Chet and Marco's sympathy. Not what he bargained for at all. He expected Chet to give him a high-five or something and say something totally inappropriate and he wasn't sure whether he was happy it didn't happen or sad.

Chet sat on the side of John's bed, reading the humiliation on his friend's face despite the concentrated effort to hide it. He had no idea what to say so he just went with the first thing that came to his mind.

"Look, Johnny, I know it wasn't the same as here at Rampart, the good-natured joking, the stuff we tease each other about like who's gonna ask who out and stuff like that. That was serious. She assaulted you; end of story and now you and the other victims will have a chance to put her away for good. I know that doesn't change what happened. God, Johnny, I wish we could have found you sooner. We were just so damned happy to find you alive we never even considered anything like this could happen."

Marco stood in silent solidarity for most of the visit. Chet's words helped more than he could ever hope for. John expected teasing and insensitivity but all he got was love and understanding. It wouldn't be easy but he would eventually heal.

"So … now you can tell us how you're really feeling," Marco said.

"Uh … I don't know."

Chet took a deep breath about to jump off a cliff he couldn't see the bottom of. There was no way he and Johnny could just be in the same room together and not joke and insult. Chet tested the perimeters of their relationship with an atomic bomb.

"He thinks therefore he is … fortunate his brain was rejected for donation purposes," Chet cringed but said bravely.

"Ah but you misunderstand, Chester B. They probably took me so they could transplant someone else's brain into my beautiful body," John said, and this time his smile reached his eyes.

Chet felt his blood pressure decrease and he blew out his held breath. He knew the remark had been a risk of epic proportions but he also knew that if things weren't kept natural between them, John would think something more was wrong than it already was … it was just the way with the two of them; even when John gave Chet mouth-to-mouth resuscitation only to be jokingly accused of kissing him.

John's face fell a short time later. He was exhausted from keeping up the facade that he was okay. The guys tried to make it okay to be not okay … for now.

"Thanks, Chet, Marco … I mean it," John said, clasping hands with each of them before he fell asleep and they slipped quietly from his room, looking back to the young paramedic who had so much healing to do.

XXXX

Roy and Cap watched John grow stronger each day. John's eyesight remained a bit fuzzy from the highs and lows of his blood pressure from his injuries and Brackett wanted him to rest his eyes so reading was out of the question and watching T.V. gave him a headache. Stoker came in on his days off and read to him.

Stoker was in the middle of an exciting tale when Dr. Early arrived to remove John's chest tube. John sighed in resignation. It was good to be getting it out to be sure but the pain was something he could definitely live without. He would be glad of the day just to be able to go home and be alone for awhile with his thoughts. Today was not that day.

Stoker stood to leave but seeing the wide eyes on his friend and the way his knuckles gripped the bed sheets in anticipation, Stoker accepted the cloth mask for his face and put it on, prepared to stay. He sat on John's other side and John turned his head and focused on Mike as he continued to read, one hand on the book, the other gripping the scared young man's hand.

"You're doing good, John, a few more minutes and we'll be all done," came Dr. Early's soothing voice in between Stoker's wild tales of killer shark attacks.

When it was all over with and John was all cleaned up and covered, Dr. Early left Johnny in Mike's capable hands. The engineer turned the pages back and re-read the passage he'd read during the procedure, sure John hadn't heard a word but just enjoyed the distraction.

"Th-thanks, Mike," John said sincerely.

Stoker stayed until visiting hours were over because John was a bit jittery. Roy made special arrangements to spend the night with his friend for his last night in the ICU and he and Mike stood outside John's door speaking quietly.

"Johnny's going to a regular ward tomorrow so visiting is going to get a whole lot easier but Brackett said he won't be able to keep the FBI at bay any longer. They want to question him. John's knows it coming but it's not gonna be easy on him. I want to make sure one of us is with him at all times. I'm off shift until Tuesday when my stitches come out," Roy said, "so I'll be around for all the nights."

"Cap said he'll make up a schedule with the guys. I know they've been really worried and will want to help," Stoker promised. "Cap's called a meeting too, but from what Chet said, he and John worked everything out on their own, thank God."

"Yeah, seems the phantom's a lot smarter than we gave him credit for," Roy smiled.

"Well, John's gonna need all of us … Chet just brings something … uh … unique? to the table."


	7. chapter seven

Author's notes: Well, here we are at the end of the story. I'm sure there were medical inaccuracies and other mistakes but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Thanks for all the kind reviews and PM's. They are very appreciated.

XXXX

The courtroom was packed. April sat in the prisoner's docket in a perfect imitation of June Clever from Leave it to Beaver. Her fingers were polished, her hair swept up and a three-piece skirt set made up her wardrobe along with a pair of low-heeled pumps. She looked every bit the picture of the girl next door.

April began by admitting everything her plea bargain couldn't save her from, sounding scared and apologetic, claiming she'd been forced into a life in this business through intimidation and duress. A few tears fell, delicately wiped away by a white handkerchief.

"Once I realized that I'd been recruited by criminals, I tried to get out, even getting a job at Rampart so I could do some good with the healing gifts I was given in nursing school where I was an honor graduate. I was threatened with death if I didn't provide certain information to my other employer. I had no idea that the information I provided would contribute to the death of so many." … _sniffle-dab-tears-wipe-repeat …_

"Mr. Gage was a patient I met at Rampart. I'd been warned about him several times from the other nurses that he'd likely be all over me and he was. Why, I was only in his treatment room for a minute when he pinched me, you know, on the behind. I was so shocked I was going to report it but it became clear to me that Mr. Gage is friends with most of the staff at Rampart and I was scared I'd lose my job…"

"That's a lie!" John shouted. "Within a minute of her coming into the room at Rampart she stuck me with a needle and took my blood when it wasn't ordered by my doctor! I never touched her!"

The gavel banged and before John even knew what was happening he found himself face-to-face with both of Roy's hands on his shoulders and Stoker standing behind him.

"Johnny, listen, you've got to calm down. The D.A. told you April would do all this. Unfortunately she's allowed to speak and if you try to speak over her before it's your turn, you're going to get kicked out. We believe you. Of course we do. And you'll see, so does everyone else, but you've got to keep quiet. I promise I'll buy you a bullhorn and drive you up into the echoing cavern on ridge road and you can scream it for all of L.A. tomorrow. Just for now … you have no choice."

The judge looked to Roy and Stoker, not John to see if they could keep him contained. Roy nodded and took a seat beside John this time while Stoker took Roy's seat behind Gage.

"This is all so upsetting," April sniffled. "Anyway, as I was saying, Mr. Gage asked me out. I said no. I had no idea I'd be meeting him again at my other job."

Gage closed his eyes and bit his tongue. She'd sold his blood to them!

"I was told to extract a blood sample from patient fifty-one as he was known there. I did so. I planned to mail the blood to the police to prove it was the blood of one of the folks they were looking for so they would take it seriously from amongst all of the other false clues coming in. I was going to put a note in with his blood leading them to the warehouse where I hoped the victims be saved. Blood was the only sample I extracted from patient fifty-one and I'm deeply sorry I was the one whose face he must have seen in his delusional state during any other extractions. Though he acted inappropriately with me at Rampart I never wished him harm nor would I touch him in that way."

April answered a few more questions from her lawyer, sipped water delicately from a glass on the wooden docket and went back to her lies. Gage kept waiting for lightning to strike but it never happened.

"Patient thirty-six, well you know college boys. I'm deeply sorry for the trauma he must have suffered but it was not at my hands. At that age they like to brag and with me being a nurse and all and a little older, I figure he had to face this humiliation by saying it happened by a … well, I'm not bragging you understand, but well, a pretty woman. Some of the other staff members were less, well, you might say, not very attractive actually. And truth be told? There have been extractions of that type perpetrated by some of the female patients promised by Dr. R. that if they succeeded, they would be set free. Perhaps since patient thirty-six bonded with the other captives of his own age group, he isn't willing to admit that one of them would betray him like that. So, again, I'm not saying it did not happen, the evidence speaks for itself but I am willing to pay my dues for the crimes I committed and that will haunt me for the rest of my life but please members of the jury, I did not assault either of these gentlemen."

Shea actually banged his head on the desk in front of him hard enough it reverberated against the heavy wooden walls. All eyes turned to him and John was sure the bronze statue of Justice, blindfolded and weighing her options could see him through her blindfold.

The gavel sounded in warning and Shea's girlfriend gripped his hand. The two teenage girls and the one teenage boy who'd been with Shea at the compound sat behind him, both girls drained of all color at the accusation the pit viper in the docket levied against them. They had done all they could to save Shea's life and now they were being accused of cowardice and turning against their fellow prisoner?

John swallowed hard. April was a master at her craft. If there was even the shadow of the doubt amongst the jury members, April would serve her time for aggravated assault and walk free in two years less a day. The girls behind Shea cried on each other's shoulders as the boy tried his best to comfort them and himself. The judge called lunch.

"Shea, are you okay?" one of the girls from the compound asked, running to him and putting her arms around him. A camera flash captured the moment and a very happy looking reporter took off running. Gage could see the headlines now as sensationalism built around the charismatic murderer. _Prisoner Against Prisoner?_ The publication ban would only prevent that from becoming a reality until the close of the trial and only if the jury saw fit to throw April's lies out and do the right thing. The female former prisoner then hugged Shea's girlfriend in support. Where was the camera for that?

Shea was pale. His father took his arm from the pool of teenage bodies around him and led him to a bench. The boy's breathing was erratic and he stuttered out vehement denials that everyone tried to reassure him he didn't need to waste his breath on.

"What if they don't believe me?" Shea asked his father, finally breaking. He couldn't catch his breath and soon the dark circles clearly indicating lack of sleep seemed to grow darker against his stark white skin. John had learned that Shea was still on a course of antibiotics for the stomach wound that was stubbornly refusing to heal completely. He also knew that the whole in Shea's gut went clear through to his soul because he bore the same hole.

"Roy?" John nodded toward Shea and together they made their way through the small throng of Shea's friends.

"Shea, just take it easy, alright? You're hyperventilating. I want you to lean over and put your head down," Roy instructed in calm, even tones while he gently took a pulse.

"That's it." Roy motioned for a paper sack and Chet jogged off to the cafeteria to get one.

"Is he gonna need an ambulance?" John asked, accepting the bag from Chet and demonstrating to Shea how to breathe into it.

Shea was helped to a reclining position on the bench. John felt his forehead, which was a little warm with dark blond strands of hair clinging to it in a light fever. Shea's blue eyes were wide with fear.

Roy got permission to check his stomach wound and he lifted the shirt from the lean body and gently peeled the bandage away. Angry red skin lined the small incision area that refused to heal.

"Shea, why didn't you …" the boy's father gasped.

"Because I didn't want to … hospitals … I just can't," Shea said desperately. "Can't we just go see Dr. Spencer when this is over?"

"I really think you should go to the hospital, Shea," Roy informed the boy, hating the scared look the statement put on his face.

Shea looked at John wide-eyed.

"I'd be scared too, Shea, and I know the doctors at Rampart well. Tell you what, I'll ride with you in the ambulance. If the D.A. needs us to testify, the judge will have to put it over until you're better anyway. Deal?"

Brice and Bellingham arrived and John spoke quietly to Brice for a minute so that no one said a word when Brice _and_ Gage hopped in the ambulance for the ride to the hospital. The police officer assigned to be Gage's shadow told him he'd follow the ambulance in his cruiser.

Shea stared gloomily at the IV in his arm. "How can she lie like that?"

"Because she faces life in prison. This is her last chance," Gage surmised.

"Yeah, well we already have life sentences," Shea said, looking like he wanted to say more but not in front of Brice.

"I hope not," Gage said quietly.

Brice for his part took vitals and tried to keep occupied and pretend he couldn't hear them, which of course was impossible in such tight quarters but still, it was appreciated.

"I can't believe Cath stays with me…"

"What do you mean?" Gage asked.

"Well …" Shea blushed trailing off. "During training I got my own dorm. Sometimes she'd stay over because we'd fall asleep watching movies or studying for exams. Now I have to make sure she leaves because I … I have nightmares. I don't want to wake her or freak her out …"

John swallowed. Of course he knew all about the nightmares.

"It's normal. It'll go away. I told Dr. Early about mine. I think you met him in the E.R., right?"

"Yeah," Shea said. "He's really nice. Checked on me a few times when I was at Rampart even when I was out of the E.R."

"Well, he says it's the brain's way of figuring out stuff, dealing with stuff. It won't be easy but eventually we'll figure it out. You can talk to someone at Rampart about it you know?"

"Nah, I can talk to you about it 'cause you're the only one who … you know."

"Shea, have to you talked to anyone else about this?"

"No way," Shea said resolutely.

John thanked God for Roy and the guys at that moment. The ambulance bay doors opened and orderlies took Shea into treatment two. Brice didn't say a word when Gage followed him in.

Dr. Early was on, making Shea more comfortable immediately. Brackett came in also since it was a slow day and Shea seemed okay with that too. Shea needed to hear Dr. Brackett reiterate what he'd said about the drug he and Gage were given, that under its influence neither of them stood a chance.

"Not much sleep huh?" Brackett asked sympathetically.

"No," Shea admitted.

Early piggybacked a strong antibiotic into Shea's IV and his wound was cleaned yet again.

"Your body needs rest so you can heal, Shea. You want to be ready for the season in May, right?" Early asked.

"I'm giving it up, doc," Shea said sadly.

"But when your coach was in visiting he said you still had a real shot of turning pro," Brackett said, his arms folded in front of him wearing his famous upshot eyebrow.

"Yeah, and I'll always be known as the player who … I'm going to do something else, something not televised where you have to be in the public eye and all."

Johnny stepped up beside Shea again. "Shea, this is not gonna stick with you. It's not who you are. You were a victim for Pete's sake. Look, I thought about quitting the department for a short time after we were rescued too but then I looked at the guys who saved us, the cops, the fireman, FBI … What kind of thanks is it to them if they risked their lives so we could live if we don't … you know … live? It's kind of a poor way of repaying their sacrifices.

Shea looked about to protest but closed his mouth. "I'll think on it, that's all I can promise for now."

"That's all I can ask," John said. Until now even he hadn't considered the place the police, FBI and rescue people had put themselves in, despite him being a fireman himself.

"Well, listen Shea, doc here says you're gonna be okay. I'm going back to court."

"'Kay, and John, thanks, you know, for what you said."

John and the police officer arrived back in court and John took his seat beside a very relieved looking Roy.

"How's he doing?" Roy asked in a whisper despite a break in testimony.

"Brackett says he's gonna be okay. He thinks maybe Shea's stress over going back to school was holding up his healing."

"That's too bad. Joanne's younger cousin goes to Shea's school and says he was a real star on the basketball team."

The gavel came back down and court was back in session. April's testimony was over and Gage was glad the D.A. felt she'd hung herself out to dry enough that he wouldn't have to take the stand again to refute what she'd said about he and Shea.

Closing arguments were heard and Gage was white knuckled to the arms of his chair throughout. The jury was ordered to debate.

Outside in the hall, Roy handed John some juice. His partner had a tendency to become so distracted by the whole process that he failed to consider his ongoing recuperation. The D.A. approached and shook hands.

"I want to than you for your brave testimony. How's Shea?"

"Physically, he's gonna make a full recovery," John said.

The D.A. shook his head. "Funny how jury's are swayed by the things that are most distracting. I think a few of the members were leaning toward leniency toward April; she was a convincing self-described victim of duress. Shea taking ill during her testimony while not good for him had fortunate timing in that the jurors could see the emotional toll she'd placed on her victims and they believed him."

"He's really sick," John said a little defensively.

The D.A. put his hands up. "I know. And believe me, kid, I believe you. It's just you would not believe how much something like that can sway a case for good or bad."

"I know …" Gage allowed.

John told the D.A. he would not be in court for April's sentencing. If she got off on the charges of the particular type of assault against he and Shea, she would serve her light sentence for aggravated assault on the group as a whole and go on her merry way. If she got off, Shea and Gage would have to figure out a way to live with it; to be called liars officially.

XXXX

Roy and Joanne sat with John at home as he paced the following morning.

"Look, Roy, I think I'm gonna go to Rampart. Shea's waiting on this too, John said of the phone call that was imminent. The jury was ready and within minutes the verdict would be passed and the judgment rendered.

John picked up his keys. Sure, the police officer would drive him to Rampart but he felt the need to be able to be himself.

The keys jangled together in his shaking hands. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Junior, you can't drive right now," Roy said kindly while at the same time snaking the keys from his partner. "I'll take you. You can go in by yourself or whatever you want when we get there … well, you know, you and your shadow," Roy smiled awkwardly at the officer.

John nodded mutely. Joanne smiled in understanding at her husband passing them both their coats.

It was a silent ride to Rampart. Roy drove John's Rover simply because that's where John placed himself in the passenger side. John always felt at peace in his truck, it took him to work but also to the mountains, away from … anywhere.

The Rover pulled up and John sat staring at the entrance.

"You gonna be okay?" Roy asked, worry evident in his tone as the cruiser pulled in behind them.

"Yeah … Sure. Just worried about Shea. He's only nineteen and all …"

"Yeah, and you're so much older Grasshopper," Roy smiled indulgently at Gage. Five whole years. It's okay to be nervous. Hell, I'm nervous."

"Thanks, Roy," John said. He continued to sit there.

"Listen, Roy, I know you got things to do and all, but you wouldn't … come with me?"

Roy blew out a breath.

"I wasn't going anywhere, Johnny. I wouldn't have come in with you unless asked but I sure as hell wasn't leaving you alone. That's not how it works, okay?" Roy got out of the Rover and bumped shoulders with John as they entered Rampart.

Shea's dad and girlfriend sat on either side of him. An untouched breakfast tray sat on the table off to the side.

"Come on, Shea, you gotta eat," Gage said by way of greeting. You told me you were gonna try."

"I will, promise. Just right now it feels like my guts are being pulled out through my belly button. I just want it to be over," Shea said, shaking hands with both paramedics.

"Me too," John swallowed dryly.

Roy left for a minute slipping past the officer in the hall. His hip pressed the large button on the vending machine and ginger ale fell to the bottom with a satisfyingly loud noise to break the quiet. He made his way back into the room slowly to give Shea and his partner a minute to talk.

John took a long sip of the ginger ale and winced as it hit his empty stomach. He was a good one to talk, he hadn't eaten since yesterday's lunch. His hands still shook and when Shea's patient phone line rang, he nearly jumped. Everyone looked at Roy to pick up the phone.

Shea Sullivan's room, Rampart hospital," Roy greeted.

"This is Roy Desoto, Sir," Roy said, mouthing the words _'D.A.'_ to Shea and John.

Roy sighed deeply and sat down, running his hand over his face. No one knew what to make of it. The ginger ale in Gage's stomach threatened to bubble back up and Shea's already pasty face broke out in a cold sweat. Roy hung up the phone with mumbled thanks.

"She's going away for twenty-five years with no chance of parole for her assault on you and Shea, and that's if she's lucky. The judge is considering the D.A.'s request to have her deemed a dangerous repeat offender coupled with her lesser charges and even without the accessory to murder rap from her plea-bargain he thinks they have a good chance because they were able to add forcible confinement to the individual charges stemming from you and Shea that were separate from her plea-bargain."

Gage wanted to shout that it was great news. He really did. But somehow whatever euphoria he thought he'd feel if they got a conviction, it never came. It restored balance a bit, sure, but it didn't take it away. He felt foolish now thinking that somehow magically he'd feel better, cured even and that Shea would magically get up and be the happy nineteen year old he'd heard described by his dad and friends since they met.

"It's gonna take time," Roy said gently, squeezing John's shoulder.

Shea certainly didn't need an audience for the flood of teary relief that took hold from the verdict. John and Roy told his dad they'd come back tomorrow.

XXXX

John stepped outside and looked up to the sun, squinting. Spring was coming. Maybe his heart would thaw with it.

John forced himself to eat a bit of supper. Jennifer squeezed chocolate into his glass of white milk at the supper table, something that wasn't usually done. Joanne smiled at her daughter as she dutifully put the chocolate away, leaving her own and Chris's white.

"I think we should all have chocolate milk with dinner," Joanne said as Jennifer gladly got the chocolate out again and proceeded to stir loudly in everyone's glass.

After dinner, a knock came to the door. Bruce's girlfriend stood on the porch.

"Tracy, it's good to see you," John said, stepping out and hugging the young woman.

"I heard the news. It's over … I guess."

Tracy looked completely lost as John pulled her away and held onto her shoulders so he could look her in the eyes. The last time he'd seen her he wasn't a victim of Bruce's murderer and from this side of things it was much worse. The survivor's guilt spiked.

Roy looked out the window, trying not to intrude but wanting to keep an eye on his young partner. He knew the dam would burst, just not when.

"Look, I wasn't going to come over, but I found myself at your apartment door and your landlady said you were staying with Roy and … I'm so sorry I never came and saw you at the hospital, Johnny. I just didn't know what to say to you, I mean what does a person say to that without sounding terrible, I'm glad you made it, I wish it could've been sooner so Bruce …"

Roy watched John's back stiffen, his slight recoil as if he'd been slapped. His face was pained.

"It's not how I meant it, see what I mean? I really did come to check on you, Bruce really admired you and Roy, you were the ones that made him see that transferring would be good for his health … See? Awkward no matter what I say …"

"Tracy, look at me," John said, tilting the distraught young woman's face toward his. "This wasn't your fault either. I know what you're trying to say, believe me, I do. I don't know why I made it out and Bruce didn't. Hell I didn't think _I'd _make it. When I woke up at Rampart no one was more surprised than I was."

"I know. I phoned every day and talked to Ms. McCall. She tried to coax me to come see you but I just couldn't. Once you were off the respirator I made it all the way to the hallway your room was in, even checked in with the police at your door but all I could think of was Bruce and … I was afraid I couldn't look at you without seeing…"

"That's why I haven't been able to go to his grave," Gage confessed.

"It's nice … well, you know what I mean, with the trees and all and birds are starting to nest for spring. It's peaceful."

Gage had pictured the grave, had nightmares about it too only in his dreams the grave was a pile of mud mounded up in an empty, desolate field. In his nightmares, his own grave joined Bruce's and dozens, maybe hundreds of others.

"I think you should go … when you're ready," Tracy told him.

John nodded in a non-committal sort of way looking kind of like a deer in the headlights. Roy couldn't watch anymore.

"Tracy, good to see you, why don't you come in for a cup of coffee?" Roy invited opening the door and peering out.

Tracy looked about to turn down the offer when Gage steered her into the house. She stayed for an hour and the conversation strayed to and from the kidnappings. John tried to put himself in Bruce's girlfriend's shoes. It was only natural she would want to know what happened to him so she could reckon it with her own perceived notions of what Bruce had been through.

The question hung in the air but was never asked so Gage answered it as truthfully as he could.

"I don't know if Bruce … Um, one of the …" What did he call April Seaquest now? Staff? Kidnapper? "Well, a woman who worked there, she ah, she … liked to talk … brag you know? She did mention something about another fireman and as far as we know Bruce and I were the only ones."

John looked desperately at Roy. April knew from the papers the kind of operation the compound had been and what organs and other materials were harvested. Gage was alive and intact as far as organs were concerned so the natural conclusion was the right conclusion. Tracy was a smart woman.

"I'm not here to pry, honest. God, John I can't imagine … I'm so sorry. I just wondered if Bruce …"

Roy took up the conversation with nodded permission from John who found himself unable to speak. There was a reason the court case didn't begin to end the suffering of some victims.

"There's still evidence at the compound, which is under FBI lock-down. John and Shea that you read about in the newspapers are the only known living victims of …" Roy looked over to John who was looking distinctively green.

"Johnny, you want me to?"

John nodded as Joanne put a cold glass of water in his hands, which he fiddled with, looking anywhere, but at Tracy.

"John and Shea have to sign papers for the destruction of … evidence, which will be carried out once the court determines whether anyone can appeal their charges."

"And what of the murdered victims?" Tracy said shrilly, wholly unintentionally causing John's jaw muscles to jump beneath the skin.

"I don't know…"

"Well, I do," Tracy said cryptically. "You were patient fifty-one, that boy Shea was thirty six based on his basketball jersey number so that would mean, if they were that stupid, then Bruce would be … well he was transferring out so he didn't have a steady department anymore so … who would speak for him if …"

Gage was tired of admitting he didn't know anything. For his part, he wanted the evidence destroyed. Shea told him likewise. If it was up to him the _evidence_ would be gone already. As it was, this part of the investigation could be tied up for a year. Cryogenic technology was experimental and new and the techniques employed at the compound were said to be leaps and bounds further along than previously thought possible.

"The paper said there were eyes in that lab too," Tracy shuddered.

Gage subconsciously felt his palms smoosh into his own sockets, grateful his body was intact. The resulting blurriness assured him his eyes were truly there.

"I'm sorry, John. I know how this all sounds to you. It's just that it's the not knowing that keeps me up at night. Something's nagging at me, like Bruce doesn't have peace."

John's stomach squirmed, images from his perception of what Bruce's grave looked like assaulting him again despite having been reassured that it was a place of tranquility as it should be. He felt like there was a ghost among them and he wasn't the only one.

Tracy accepted another cup of coffee. Small talk was made and nothing was resolved because it was out of their hands. The system worked as fast as molasses flowing uphill on a cold day.

That could be changed.

XXXX

John's nightmares were worse tonight than they'd been since the ordeal began. Roy placed a cold cloth on his friend's forehead to quell the headache brought on by the screams that were ripped from him. Bruce wasn't free and he wouldn't be until the people that loved him were free.

Three weeks later the D.A. called to inform them that all appeals had been turned down and April Seaquest was registered as a dangerous offender and would spend the rest of her life in jail. It was the right news, but it wasn't enough.

The police assignment for John and Shea were dismissed. Roy tried to get John to stay with his family a little while longer but John wouldn't be swayed. He had to stand on his own two feet and now was as good a time as any. Besides, how good was it for his niece and nephew to hear his screaming every night?

Tracy and John spoke on the phone a few times. Tracy told him she petitioned for the right to find out if Bruce had been similarly harvested like John and Shea. John's best guess, based on April's bragging was, yes. She heard back a week later that based on a number on a chamber at the compound, being fourteen, Bruce's last known station and matching blood types, it was highly likely but not definitive that Bruce had been harvested.

John drove to Tracy and Bruce's apartment. Things were still packed in boxes like Bruce was alive and ready to move to Colorado even though Tracy was staying in L.A. under the circumstances.

"I'm so sorry, Tracy," John said, holding her while she cried.

"So many thoughts are going through my mind, you have no idea…"

"I do," John said, his eyes speaking of truth and pain.

"We talked about kids you know? I wanted three and he wanted two so we joked that we'd have to two point five like the national average." Tracy smiled at that recollection.

"What about you, John. Ever think about having kids?"

"Yeah, but Roy says I have to find a girl first," John smiled ruefully, recalling how Roy finally took him seriously when he'd talked of settling down to have kids.

"You will, someday," Tracy said.

Neither of them could talk about why the talk of children came up. It was the big elephant showing its head again.

"The technology is too new for that stuff to work. The paper said it's years away from becoming a reality," Tracy said.

"Didn't stop someone from buyin'" Gage said bitterly. "And for as long as it exists I'm gonna have to wonder … worry. I know it's stupid. It can't be done … yet. But the fact they were willing to do that to me … to others and experiment … What if they get it right by some miracle before John's Hopkins University that's working on it, albeit from willing donors? What if there's another branch out there that no one knows about? What if …"

"Exactly," Tracy said her tone of definitiveness suggested to Gage that she had something serious on her mind. "You're suffering. I talked to Roy the other day. You're due back at work on the twenty- sixth and you're two pounds under the departmental regulation. He said they're willing to overlook two pounds but John you know they're not gonna overlook more and Roy's worried about you. I'm worried about you. This is quite literally eating you alive."

He couldn't deny it. It hung over Shea's head too. The young basketball star didn't sign up for the spring session at college at all.

"We have to do something. For you, Shea and for Bruce," Tracy said.

"But what?"

XXXX

John and Tracy pulled up to the pier on a Friday night. Yellow police tape still flapped uselessly in the breeze. The place was forgotten now that the media frenzy was over and while the place was under rather sophisticated alarm systems and drive by security, there were no police guards like there was only weeks ago.

John had spent years watching Chet and Stoker cut power to buildings. No one would return here until Monday morning at the earliest. The Rover was parked by a local fish market that was closed for the weekend and Tracy and John walked the distance to the compound. Gage's leaden feet were clumsy, his throat dry. Tracy placed her hand on his back for support. The wire cutters felt good in his hands. It was nothing for him to scale the side of the one floor, high ceiling former factory.

The heavy wire cutters poised over the electrical wire. John paused, Tracy looking up at him as if afraid he'd changed his mind. John gulped; the wire cutters found their marks again and again as he carefully plunged the building into darkness. The whirring blades of the cooling units silenced, the hum of electrical energy buzzing along salt-water dampened lines ceased. The sudden quiet was both welcome and eerie as a breeze blew the wind back from his face whispering a thankful goodbye. Now it was over, when they said it was, not when someone told them it was. It didn't work that way. The samples and eyes would begin to degrade and decompose upon thawing.

Tracy went back to sit in the Rover while John scaled back down the wall. He stared at the prison and his life passed before his eyes as if he was dying though this mission was to give him his life back. He was always bragging that he was single, unencumbered by marriage. What if he never married? Never had kids? It was stupid really, test tube babies were years away if ever and he never wanted to be a father without knowing it but something stirred in his gut just the same as he walked away from the building without looking back.

XXXX

John sat sipping coffee in Roy's living room a day before he was to return to work. Roy looked at him over the newspaper.

"Did you see this?" he asked but his tone clearly asked _did you do this?_

The headline announced a power outage at the facility that wasn't discovered until late Monday morning. The FBI wouldn't admit that the power had been deliberately cut. All remaining cryogenic evidence was destroyed in the thaw.

"I slept peacefully through the night for the first time last night," Gage whispered cryptically, waiting for the comprehension of his words to spur what they would.

"I'm glad, Junior. You okay?" Roy said back, intense concern on his face with no judgment at all.

"I will be."

XXXX

John drove home from Roy's after supper. The sun was setting, not a great time for visiting a cemetery but the final leg of his journey hadn't been achieved yet. He pulled into the long drive and spotted the plot number signs and followed them on foot. Birds were settling in for the night. It was a place of calm and peace.

Bruce's stone had carved designs of his badge and underneath were the words, _not to dwell._

John found himself talking to the sky, not the stone, which was a marked improvement in his psyche. Until last Friday, he felt like Bruce dwelt all around him, around Tracy and fire trucks … and there, at the compound. He was free now.

John checked his watch and stopped by Shea's parent's place to see him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Gage, Shea moved back to his dorm last week but he left these for you. I was going to mail them to you but since you're here …" Mrs. Sullivan handed John six tickets to Shea's very first college basketball game back.

"He brought these over Monday afternoon. His coach said he's going to have to train hard to get back up to where he was but Shea's up for it. Something changed in him since Monday, like a switch was pushed … or cut." Shea's dad looked at Gage with gratitude.

"Yeah, a switch," Gage repeated, remembering the distinct feel of the wires dying out in his gloved grip.

XXXX

Coffee permeated the air in Station fifty-one before roll call. Smokey the Bear greeted John like he did every shift as John changed into his uniform. The new material was scratchier than his well-worn uniform but the guys had thought enough to order him one since his last one was god knew where. Sure, he had others but there was something about being in a new uniform for new beginnings.

The phantom was distinctly absent today as Chet handed John his new helmet as his old one was still likely sitting in a basement of some crime lab. John peered into the shallow depths of the black plastic, feeling around with his finger for itching powder or hair dye or some other nefarious product. It was clean.

Cap doled out chores during roll call and while John went to work on the dorms, he took Roy aside.

"I know John's cleared for duty, and I don't have to ask you to watch out for him … but, watch out for him, okay?" Cap said.

"Will, do Cap, always," Roy replied as he went to help John strip the beds.

John's hands touched everything in the dorm as if trying to remember them. It might have been only months since his last time here but it felt like years. He'd only stripped three beds before Cap was calling him out to the day-room. He passed Chet who was muttering something about _Agent 86 and Maxwell smart _being there to question Gage. His back stiffened. _No, oh come on! I was careful! Wasn't I?_

The female agent shook hands with John, as friendly as she always was.

"Mr. Gage, I hope you don't mind us coming down here, but we have some questions for you. If you get called out, we'll of course come back later."

"Ah, no … sure, wh-what's up?"

"We're just following up on some details of our investigation. I guess you haven't heard that the compound had its power cut on Friday of last week since it hasn't reached the newspapers?"

"Oh, really, well th-that's uh, unfortunate?"

"Well, the evidence was going to be destroyed eventually but that's not really the point. The FBI doesn't like to have vigilantes taking on things that don't concern them."

"Don't concern them?" Gage spluttered, slapping a hand over his mouth and calming himself down as much as possible.

"The wires on the roof were cut to the whole building. It would have taken some real punch to climb up there without proper equipment and know exactly which wires to cut and how, don't you agree?"

"Well, yeah, but …"

"What sort of training do you get on that sort of thing, Mr. Gage?"

"Now wait just a minute here …" Gage protested feebly. It took all he had not to glance nervously at his Rover where in the back seat sat the heavy wire cutters and his industrial gloves.

The tones sounded and Gage sighed in relief at the momentary reprieve. The squad was called to an MVA with injuries. John jumped in the squad feeling it was his getaway car. His full attention was on navigating and getting to the victims, even if this might be his last time doing it.

A man with a fractured pelvis and a woman in the car he'd hit head on with head injuries were rushed to Rampart with Johnny in the ambulance. The squad pulled in after the ambulance and Roy took John aside, rushing him into the coffee lounge as soon as he was done with his victims.

"What's going on, Johnny? What did those agents want with you?"

John looked at the floor. How did this happen? The criminals hadn't killed him but they were still getting on his last nerve, poised to kill his career and possibly his freedom if any jury would convict a victim for doing what he did, even if it turned out to be a slap on the wrist. Firemen weren't allowed to have criminal records for public mischief or worse.

"They're asking questions about what happened at the warehouse…"

Roy blew out a long breath, his hands raking through his hair. "Of all the … If they'd just done the right thing from the start none of this would have happened."

"They don't know I did it. I was careful. I don't regret it no matter what happens. I couldn't take the thought of … and for as long as it existed I couldn't sleep, anything I ate turned to coal in my stomach, Roy, I was dying and I didn't even know it."

"I did, Junior. I understand. Look, we'll get you out of it. Somehow. Stay here."

Roy went and called Shea Sullivan from the payphone in the lobby. Sure enough Agent 88 and her partner had questioned Shea about the wire cutting as well. So, they didn't have a definitive suspect after all.

Roy relayed the news to Johnny who had called them in available. He wouldn't let his own problems get in the way of public safety. The young paramedic's hands were sweaty on his green pen as he signed for supplies in the hallway. They would avoid going back to the station for as long as possible.

Lunchtime beckoned and Cap would expect them back at the station. John swallowed hard and got into the squad, forgetting to close the compartments. He stared numbly out the window.

"Johnny, you're gonna have to try to calm down a bit. If they hung around for awhile they're likely going to be there still. They asked Shea the same questions they asked you. They don't know what happened. They're grasping at straws."

"Yeah," Gage said, chewing on the end of his pen.

"Don't do that. Bad for your teeth, plus you could get sick," Roy scolded. Gage took the pen from his mouth and tapped it on the dash all the way back to the station.

Peering through the bay doors to the back parking lot, John's heart sped up just when he'd finally managed to get it under control. The agent was walking amongst the cars, speaking to Cap. Her glance lingered on John's Rover straight into the back seat_. Boom, Boom Boom!_ John sat down hard on the bumper. His wrist shook out of Roy's hand as his pulse was measured.

The agent squinted hard into John's backseat as she passed the Rover, clearly not really interested in what Cap was telling her on her tour.

Chet walked into the bay at that moment just as Gage stood, pretty much ready to go quietly into that bad night. The agents and Cap followed not far behind.

"Ah, John I see you're back. These two agents have something to discuss with you," Cap said, taking his leave.

Gage's hands rose, placed together in surrender. At that moment Chet tripped and toppled forward into John. The two of them went down hard.

"Don't say a word, Gage," Chet whispered into John's ear as he extricated himself from the young paramedic's stomach. "It's all … taken care of." John looked at him dazed and confused.

Chet coughed loudly and rolled to his back. "Ohhhh my back!"

John looked completely puzzled as Roy quickly got the drug box out and started assessing Chet and Stoker told John to stay down because he looked like he was injured. Stoker's eyes looked about ready to pop out of his skull when John opened his mouth to tell him he was okay. Stoker shoved an oxygen mask on John's face to shut him up.

"Stay down, John, you must have hit your head pretty hard. Roy, there's a fair sized lump on the back on his head."

It was true. John could feel the knot forming but he was okay. He just wanted to get up. His eyes grew wide and blurry as Stoker leaned down next to him and Cap herded the FBI agents out of the day-room to give them more room to work.

"John, just lay back. Chet's real sorry he bumped into you. I'd make him clean your Rover out for being so clumsy but he already did that an hour ago," Stoker said meaningfully.

Chet moaned and went on about his back.

"Who loves ya baby?" he whispered between moans.

"What? Chet?"

"Heard 'em talking, trust me, there's nuthin' that goes on in this station without me knowing about it. They had no search warrant but if they took a tour and happened to see … well anyway … imagine my surprise when I find _my_ wire cutters and gloves in the back of _your_ truck. So naturally I took 'em back and put 'em away. I'm a good fireman."

With the relief came the headache. John stopped fighting Stoker's hand on his forehead and the game of up-down ceased. His heart slowed but he could feel every pulse in the back of his head.

"You hit me pretty hard, Chester B," he complained with a crooked grin on his face as Stoker shook his head at the two of them. His hand came up to remove the oxygen mask but was caught by Stoker.

"I'm actually kinda serious here, John. Your pulse is pretty fast, why don't you just lie down while we package Kelly here?"

John grumbled under the mask feeling ridiculous but dizzy.

Marco and Cap placed Chet on a backboard as the very dramatic fireman wailed in agony.

The ambulance Cap summoned arrived and Roy held it so they could assess Johnny and call in to Rampart.

Roy was careful how he worded Chet's injuries. He'd hate to have to give him something he didn't need but on the other hand this had to look as real as possible and though he hated wasting the doctor's time, it was saving a life if truth be told.

Chet sighed in relief. No IV. Roy moved to crouch beside John. John slapped his hand away when a penlight was beamed into his skull.

"It's okay. I know what we're doing now, and thanks. I'll play along but come on, Roy, I'm okay." The two Roy's swam in his vision and he cursed loudly.

"Suspect mild concussion on victim number two, Rampart. Pupils are sluggish but reactive." Roy probed the back of his partner's head, which elicited a low growl of pain and frustration. Roy's fingers came away with a touch of blood. He bandaged John's head, winding gauze all the way around several times. John forgot himself and shook his head, running the bump over the rough ground.

"Ouch!"

"Don't move, Junior," Roy said kindly as John glared up at him.

"Oh. No. You. Don't." John stated categorically. No IV."

"Early ordered it. You know it's standard in concussion cases, Johnny."

"Be a good fireman like me," Chet called from the ambulance where he and Marco sat talking excitedly about the basketball tickets they got.

"Why couldn't he have just tapped me on the shoulder or something?" Gage moaned as Roy started the IV as gently as he could.

"Did you see how fast you were ready to surrender? Convinced they had evidence? If Chet hadn't tackled you, I probably would have and I think I might have a few pounds on him. It was the lesser of two evils."

"Four." Gage said.

"What?" Roy asked, taping down the IV.

"There's two of you, Roy so that means there's probably two of him …" Gage said pitifully.

"Yeah, well you're two much," Roy said. "It'll be okay, Junior. Let's get you to Rampart."

"Yeah, A.S.A.P.," Stoker encouraged as the two feds poked their heads around the corner, ready to protest their questioning getting cut short after they'd waited so long.

"A.S.A.P. What does that even mean?" Gage groaned putting his hand up over his eyes.

"Act Swiftly Awesome Paramedic," Stoker smiled at Roy, shutting out the fed's intrusive gaze by closing the ambulance doors and giving it two taps with his hand. Turning to the feds he added, "Sorry, Gage doesn't have much of a fed-side manner."

XXXX

The ambulance pulled up to Rampart and Chet sat up ready to leap out and help get John inside.

"Whoa there, Chet, you're gonna have to pretend your back hurts and get checked out. What if those feds followed us? How would it look if they found out you faked the whole thing?"

"But I'll get Dr. Morton," Chet complained.

"Yeah, so? He'll tell you you're soft, insult your lifestyle, tell you to exercise more and eat less and you'll be free. Simple as that," Roy said, shoving Chet's head down and taping it to the backboard.

"Hey! You got my hair stuck in the straps."

"Not like you can't afford to lose some, ape man," Johnny laughed.

"An ape man that just swung down and saved your butt, Gage," Chet bragged.

"What? What is this, your cruel to be kind method?"

"Okay, guys, hold up, orderlies are here. John, admit you're hurt, Chet play dead," Roy smiled.

Chet moaned all the way down the hallway, even louder when Nurse McCall told them to take him to treatment two and Dr. Morton.

Dr. Brackett smiled down at John as he was transferred to the examination table.

"Care to tell me what happened, boys?"

"Um, ah, Chet fell and pitched forward, knocking Johnny down."

Brackett sighed fishing out his penlight.

"Ow."

"Lights hurt?"

John nodded as Brackett probed the wound.

"Ow."

Dr. Bracett put a few stitches into the wound before calling for an x-ray.

"I'm gonna get a second job, Roy. I figure if I sit in the top of a lighthouse from now on, I'll glow bright enough for ships to come in safely and they can pay me instead of for electricity."

XXXX

"Well, Johnny, I'm afraid we're gonna have to keep you overnight for observation, you've got a concussion."

"What? No. I didn't even get sick to my stomach," Gage argued.

"You know that isn't always a symptom, just in most cases."

"M'not seeing double anymore."

"Sit up."

"Ow!"

"See?" Brackett got only a grumbled reply.

Just then, Chet limped into the room holding his back.

"Concussion, huh?" the mustached man said.

"Yeah, you?"

"Fit as a fiddle."

"Then why're you limping?"

"Because if you must know, Ga-ge, Morton checked my chart. Turns out it was time for my yearly physical, you know the turn-your-head-and-cough one so being as I was here already…"

"Ohhhhh!" Gage and Desoto and even Brackett said, cringing just a little behind their huge grins.

Chet was signed off work for the night for good measure but allowed to go home, so feeling guilty for faking he took Roy aside while a nurse came in to chart some information on John but before he could speak, Roy did.

"I hate leaving him here alone … I mean he's a big boy and all and he'd hate me sayin' this, but I'm worried about him. It's gonna take a long time for him to get over all this and he hated hospitals before any of this stuff happened. With you and John out there's no way Cap'll be able to find a replacement for me too…"

"There's a double feature on the tube tonight. Why don't I stick around and keep Johnny company?" Chet said.

"And let him sleep when he needs it?"

"Yes, mother."

"Sorry … It's just, God, sometimes when I look at him, all I can see is the way he looked when he was in that drawer. I thought he was dead, Chet."

"I'll look after him," Chet promised.

Entering the treatment room, Roy was pleased to see John's IV gone. The young paramedic wore a brave, slightly doe-eyed grin.

"They were finally able to give you something for the pain, huh?" Roy smiled.

"M-hm."

"Listen, Johnny, I'm gonna have to get back but Chet's gonna spend the night with you."

"I don't swing that way," John joked before becoming very serious. "Roy can you come here a minute?"

Roy leaned down next to his very out of it friend. "Roy, I can't stay here. The nightmares have stopped but I don't know how I'll do with being suddenly … woke up by some nurse I don't recognize in the middle of the night every hour. Brackett ordered neuro checks. What if I freak out?"

Roy would love to have told John not to worry about that but now that he brought it up, with all that had happened to the young man in the last few months, he couldn't see how this situation would be at all pleasant.

Roy had some time on his hands while a fill-in was found for Gage and Chet so he asked Ms. McCall what could be done. John was fighting the meds hard to stay awake and Roy had no doubt his stubborn partner would find a way to keep his eyes open somehow all night.

"Tell you what. Since Chet's staying with Johnny, we'll have him wake John and then the nurse can come in slowly and check vitals and do neuro checks throughout the night. Do you think that would work?"

"Well, John's been waking up to Kelly's ugly mug for four years so it has to be better than a stranger. Thanks Dix," Roy said gratefully.

Roy told John the news.

"Chet? Chet will wake me?"

At first, Roy and Chet thought John was going to make a joke like he normally did but it never came.

"Thanks, Chet," John said and the sincerity and vulnerability nearly broke the phantom's heart.

XXXX

The night went well. John passed all his neuro checks with flying colors. Together they hit on the nurses and Chet was heartened to see his friend doing something normal. Perhaps he would mend with time.

In the morning the A-shift was off. John was being released so Roy came to pick him up directly after shift. Mike, Marco, and Cap came to see him.

When the five men were alone they spoke in low tones about the evidence Chet cleverly took away. Dixie joined the men to say goodbye to her young patient before she went off shift. Under her arm was a rolled up newspaper, which she handed to John with a mischievous grin on her pretty face.

John unfurled the newspaper and stared at the front page incredulously. There in a full color photo was April Seaquest's defense attorney, wearing only paper towels wound around her body like a mummy and looking mutinous.

"I don't understand…" Gage trailed off.

"Kel took me to the Gown and Gavel last night for dinner. Seems Ms. Seaquest's lawyer was in the washroom stall next to mine changing out of her business suit into some evening wear and bragging about her day being much better than the one she'd had during the quote, fiasco of a trial Seaquest's had been to another woman in another stall. I reached under and snagged her clothes."

"You didn't!"

"Oh, but I did," Dix said proudly. "She'll find her_ legal briefs_ waving from the flag pole on River Road."

"Remind me not to tick you off," Chet said with awed respect and a smartly delivered salute.

"Well, in light of Ms. McCall's news this hardly seems worth mentioning," Cap said mysteriously. But you might as well know, the compound burned down last night."

"Nothing left," Stoker added, a glint in his eye.

"Lot of wood in that structure," Lopez added.

John's forehead puckered as he gave his friends a pleased grin.

"Sorry you missed it, Junior," Roy said. "Agent 88 and Max were gonna head over there before it burned looking for more evidence on the wire cutting but they got a call and were too late. Too bad you were here. Did you know Shea had his first game right around the time the fire started too, full house."

John smiled at his brothers as Roy handed him a fresh pair of clothes and informed him that Blister was already at his house waiting for him. He would go back to work on Tuesday and from there he'd take it one day at a time.

John couldn't say thanks because to do so would acknowledge something he suspected deep down in his heart.

Remember, John, a _friend_ will help you move; a _good_ friend will help you move a dead body.

The end


End file.
